A Hero's Fragility
by Gillette-x
Summary: A series of vignettes portraying Sasha as comic-book Andrea and her consequent relationship with Rick Grimes. "You were a firefighter once. You tamed the flames to rescue people. Heroes like him will fall into the fire of their own madness and it is up to you to save them." RickxSasha.
1. Hero, Lost Soul, Companion

_A/N: So, with the amount of Richonne lovers around here I'm not sure this story will even be read. But if you are one of those who are thinking "well this is an unlikely couple, tell me, crazy person, why do you ship Rick and Sasha?" then let me tell you that I still hold onto the theory of Sasha being comic-book Andrea and that even though there's a big probability that the romantic story arc won't get adopted by Sasha in the series, I still find that it would be an interesting turn of events._

 _Plus, I was writing Black Wolves and a Magnolia at the time and editing Late Bloomers they Called Us and this came out of nowhere. Literally, among the tons and tons of things I write daily I just found out I had imagined and written tons of scenes between Rick and Sasha and I put them together and this came out._

 _And yes, it is a rough draft because I don't want to put too much focus on it. I still have Black Wolves and a Magnolia to concentrate on and that story is my main priority. This is just a set of vignettes inspired by songs, not an official story with a drafted plot._

 _There are 12 musical prompts and I use 3 per chapter, so the story will be four chapters long._

 _Anyhow... I hope you enjoy it._

 _Also, careful for comic-spoilers._

* * *

 **Hero**

 _(Hero - Spiderman OST)_

There's that question again.

 _Do you want to die?_

They've already asked it and you've already answered. Your smile says it all: you don't.

 **-o-**

You hold the door closed with all your strength as tens and tens of hands start pounding on every side of the RV. Your hand aches as you clutch it in a tight fist, trying to stop its bleeding. You feel lightheaded and you know the gunshots will keep the walkers coming.

There's no way out of this.

 _Fuck. Fuck!_

You gotta make it back. You don't have a choice. You cannot die in here and leave your baby out in that world, leave Carl alone.

Gunshots resonate close and you turn towards the windshield. A car and a motorcycle are approaching. Daryl, Sasha and Abraham. You gulp. They've come to rescue you. The herd is still following them, they haven't finished their job and on top of that they've come to rescue you.

Leave the weak behind. Those were your own orders. They should drive right past you, leave you here to die, but you know they won't do that.

And you're shamefully glad.

The car horn and the start of a shooting tells you how close they are now. You open the door you've been fighting to keep closed and lunge into the mass of walkers, slashing back and forth until you create yourself your own pathway. Your legs start running towards the car coming your way, the roar of the herd thundering behind and in front of you. As you reach them and open the door to climb inside, you feel the pull on your shirt and turn around to face the walker, but your hand fails to deliver the blow.

"Rick! Careful!"

Your brain is pounding and your eyes fail to focus. The figure lunges against your chest and its foul smell numbs your senses…

Bang!

Strong arms behind you pull you inside the car and you can see from your new position on the back seat as the woman on the wheel takes her gun inside after having shot the walker that was trying to eat you.

"Hurry! They're surrounding us!" Abraham's scream thunders next to you.

"Is he alright?!" Sasha's trembling voice asks as she restarts the car.

"I don't know. He just lost his balance out there." Abraham's face comes close to you. You want to push him away, but your head doesn't seem to register the order. Your grasp on his wife-beater is weaker than you intended and you realize you're about to black out. What's happening? "Rick! Rick! Answer me, man! What's wrong?!"

You open your hand and see the blood still oozing like crazy. Shouldn't it be coagulating already? And you haven't lost so much blood to feel so lightheaded. Have you?

It was the infected knife and the fever came right away.

No.

No, it can't be.

You can't be infected, it's not possible.

"The wound..." You mumble suddenly panicking. No, it can't be.

"The wound what, Rick?!" Abraham asks for an explanation but you can't give it right away. You turn to Sasha and her eyes are so big and scared they spark something inside you.

 _Keep your shit together._

"The knife… was infected…" You try to explain. The words come out in a hasty blur, but both your companions seem to understand and the silence between them lingers as they look at each other and you in shock.

"Mother dick."

"What is it?!" Daryl screams outside.

"Rick's got an infected hand!"

Dead, claustrophobic silence once more before you hear a rustling and see Abraham take your machete from your weak hand.

"He's gonna have to lose it." He holds your hand in his, stretching your arm. "You keep real still, now, Sarg, we need to do this."

"Abraham, not here!" Sasha screeches.

"He's running out of time, sweetheart."

"And if you cut his hand without proper treatment, he's gonna bleed to death like my brother!"

It seems like a no win situation.

Then leave me behind, you want to say. You've failed to come back and these are the rules if someone does. You have to abide them too. You told them to leave the weak behind. You're the weak one now. You're not going to make it.

"Kill me… leave me here…" You mumble. "Take care of Judith… Carl…" They both look at you in shock, but you know what you're telling them. "It's an order, Abraham! Leave me here!" The redhead gulps and looks at Sasha, who shakes her head.

Stupid, loyal friends. You won't get there in time and neither will they if they…

"I'm sorry, Sarg. Gonna have to disobey you." You scream, irritated, and lunge towards the door, but Abraham's arms reduce you in less than a second, keeping you still. From the corner of your eye you catch Sasha's big brown eyes fixed on you.

"We need to take him back and pray we get there in time." Her voice is trembling, like it was when she lost Bob and Tyreese.

"You do that!" Daryl screams from outside. "I'll keep on leading the herd!"

"By yourself?!"

"We got no choice! Go on!"

Sasha seems to hesitate for a moment, but starts driving faster and Daryl's figure loses itself in the distance. The rest of the trip proceeds in a stupor.

You hear the gate open and close and Carl's voice screeching.

"What happened to my dad?!"

"A doctor! We need a doctor quick!"

"Denise." A dark skinned man climbs inside the car next to Sasha, looking at Abraham and you in the back seat. "I'll lead you to her. Down the street, quickly."

Something tightens around your hand so hard you scream in pain.

"Ok, hang on man. I'm cutting the blood circulation." Abraham whispers. "Are we there yet?! He ain't got much time!"

"We here!"

"Help me get him out." The door opens and Heath and Abraham are leading you inside a house and lying you against a bed. "Denise!"

You can see the faces in front of you. Denise, your son, Michonne, Heath, Carl… Morgan wraps his arms around Michonne and Carl, pulling them aside and then there's just unfamiliar faces…

These people whom you labeled weak swarming around you, trying to save your weak-ass life.

"Take a deep breath."

Slash!

Your scream pierces the air as the blow makes your wrist burn and the world around you fades.

"Rick, stay with us, man. Stay with us."

And then there's just darkness.

 **Lost Soul**

 _(Kryptonite - Three Doors Down)_

Alexandria is a mess, Maggie and Carol are a mess, Deanna is a mess. You didn't think you would say this, but things look even more shitty now than ever. Morgan, at least, seems to have come back to his senses and is taking control over things like cleaning the streets and rebuilding the walls. You help as much as you can and try to keep Maggie out of the streets and Carol out of trouble. Both women are going through a crisis thinking Daryl and Glenn are dead, which is most likely what happened.

Michonne is still as strong as always, but even she looks disoriented. She follows Morgan's every word like a hound dog and you wonder whether she doesn't trust herself anymore. You've sneaked on the conversations she's had with Heath while on watch and you've heard her blame herself for Glenn's disappearance and the death of some other guy you didn't know.

You wish you could go to her and ask her what's wrong, but you know you don't have the right to.

You refused her help when she tried to do the same, so why would she do the opposite with you?

You've been walking the streets of Alexandria in circles tonight. Your watch-round in the now crumbling watchtower ended up an hour ago, but you know you won't be able to sleep tonight. You wish you had shot something. There was no sight of walkers, not a single one. Which is weird as hell. Where are all the rejects from the horde Daryl lead away?

Your finger not pulling from that trigger makes you feel alien and frustrated. Shooting is the only thing that keeps you alive nowadays.

It shouldn't be. Tyreese wouldn't want it that way. Neither would Bob. You stop in front of the small clinic as you see Carl exit through the door. You flash him a smile he doesn't correspond, but you didn't expect him to. You are forcing yourself to smile even when you don't feel like it. Something to remind yourself this world is still worth it.

"Carl." He stops in front of you and cleans his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He's been crying. You put a hand on his shoulder and he turns to look at you hard, making you withdraw.

There's something in Carl's cold blues that scares you.

"I need to… go check on Judith." He whispers and you nod.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah." You can see right through his lie, but don't inquire further.

"Your dad's gonna make it."

Silence.

"I know." As he turns his back to you, you resume your walk, but an impulse makes you stop yourself and call the boy back. He stops, not turning towards you but listening.

"Is someone still in there?"

"Michonne." Pause. "I couldn't convince her to leave Rick's side and it looks as if she's gonna faint."

Oh, right. So that's why she wasn't on watch-duty tonight.

"I'll take care of her. Go home." Carl doesn't need to be told twice. Sighing, you walk towards the house and open the door. Denise is sleeping in a corner, cradling her legs to her chest. She rarely leaves this place now that there's more than one person in delicate condition. You find a blanket and throw it over the woman's trembling figure before resuming your search. You find Michonne on the other side of the room, resting her head on Rick's chest, apparently sleeping. The sight makes a pang of rage cross you, but you force yourself to ignore it, not entirely sure of what it means. You approach the woman and shake her shoulder, waking her. "Michonne…" She lifts her head and as soon as she recognizes you those chocolate eyes grow stone-hard. "Go rest."

"Sasha…" She stretches her arms over her head and her bones crack hard enough to make the entire house wake up.

"You're exhausted, you haven't stopped."

"Neither have you." She looks at you and the silence lingers between you two for a while.

"Listen… I just want you to know that you were right; I should've let it go. I should've accepted your help." The woman seems surprised by your statement. You expect her to act hostile or maybe arrogant about it, but she doesn't.

"It's ok." She just says softly. "It's hard the first time you… lose everything."

You gulp at that. It is the first and the last time you lose everything. You're not going to live long enough to watch Alexandria and all your friends die before you.

"I don't know what happened out there, but… you did what you could." You start. "We don't know if Glenn is still alive or not, but maybe… just maybe…"

"Don't patronize me, Sasha. You know you don't believe it yourself." Michonne sighs and buries her face in her hands. For a second you think she's going to cry. "I told him he was gonna make it."

"Glenn?" Michonne shakes her head.

"David. I told him. I was wrong."

Oh. The guy you don't know.

"Will you accept my help now?" You ask her. "I just want you to go rest."

You stay silent for a while, looking at Rick in front of you. Asleep like this he looks so peaceful. His right stump is wrapped in bloody bandages and seeing it makes you wonder what this is going to mean for the community and the group.

Rick can make it without one hand, but he's gonna have to get used to it. His authority has been undermined quite a lot since the attack of the Wolves on Alexandria. From what you heard, Jessie is still trying to convince them to stay on Rick's side, but things don't look that peachy. Not that they ever were, but at least before you seemed to have the security Rick was in charge.

Now that Morgan is instead, will they collide?

Michonne finally gets up and puts a hand on your shoulder before walking slowly towards the door. You seat next to Rick, wrapped in your thoughts. The blanket is a little uneven and you pull it up so that it covers his stomach completely. You care an awful lot about him, you realize. It's weird; the first time you saw him you were sure he was one of the most dangerous men in this world. He may still be, but you'd prefer him over anyone else.

As you look over his features, enjoying the way his handsome face seems finally free from all grief and worry, his eyes open and his stump flies up to your hand, pushing it away clumsily in what you suspect was an effort to grab you. He winces in pain and lifts his head, but an impulse makes you push him back down. His eyes are still firmly set on yours, like he was seeing you for the first time.

"Lo… Lori…" He whispers and you narrow your eyes.

His wife?

"No, Rick. It's me." It takes a while for him to recognize you.

"S-Sasha…" He finally says. He lifts his stump towards you, but as his eyes fix on it panic crosses his face. He seems to be remembering everything now. "Judith… Carl!" He lunges forward and your whole strength is not enough to stop him. Behind you you hear Denise get up.

"Take it easy." You turn his face towards you. "Rick! They're safe! Take it easy now."

"They're safe?"

"Yeah." You help him lay down again and he takes a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on his stump.

"I… could swear I can still feel it here…" He mumbles more to himself than to you. Takes you a few seconds to realize he's talking about his hand. You've heard about ghost-limbs before and how the person can still feel them even years after the amputation. It's normal.

There must be a million questions swarming inside his head right now. You wish you could give him some of the answers. The least you can do is offer him your help.

"I'll help you get used to shooting with your other hand." He turns to look at you. "Hope I can, I mean…"

"Thank you." He tells you and his intense gaze stirs something inside you, making you feel uncomfortable.

You turn around to find Denise staring from her corner.

"You need someone to watch over him?" You ask. She shakes her head, no, and you decide to leave Rick to rest. As you get up, though, your leader's left hand takes yours without warning and the contact makes goosebumps crawl down your spine.

"Stay… please… I need…" You sigh and turn to look at him. Your hand is trembling under his firm grasp and you are not sure of why exactly. You still decide to do what he says; for a change. He falls asleep with his hand still holding yours and you stand watch over him until sunrise, trying to entertain yourself with thoughts of Bob and your brother to avoid the rush of blood in your head.

 **Companion**

 _(Give me Love - Ed Sheeran)_

"Rick… This is your good hand now. This one. Not the other. Learn to trust it. No more trembling."

She sounds frustrated, but it's probably the tiredness talking because you know she hasn't stopped with the lessons since she got up at six o'clock in the morning. Hard-work the whole day, training a bunch of people whose shooting ability can be rated in negative numbers and now a cripple like you, who keeps on fucking up his aim every time his hand starts shaking. You are not used to your left hand doing all the work. Keep on getting your stump in between every time you try to grab something. You can still feel your hand as if it was a part of your body, completely forgetting that it's no longer there.

"Im trying." You excuse yourself, trying to sound apologetic. The words come in a harsh tone and she grows cautious.

"I know." She whispers. You look at her for a little while and notice the heavy bags under her eyes. How long's it been since she got a good night's sleep? None of you get it anymore, but damn, she looks tired. "Focus." She chastises you and you turn your sight towards the target, chastising yourself for concentrating on trivial crap. You take a deep breath, focusing completely on the weight of the gun in your hand, and pull the trigger. The can you were aiming at falls and your mouth twitches up. Not thinking too much you start shooting the ones around you. "Like that. Yes!"

Sasha's words sound cheerful once you manage to get it right. It is not what it used to be before; you need more focus and a lot more time to aim, but it's progress nonetheless.

"I'm gonna have to depend on you a lot more now." You comment, embarrassed. As if it wasn't enough with all her work in this place, now she has to take care of you. She sighs before giving you a tired smile. Your eyes linger on it, as it is something you seldom see nowadays.

"Don't worry about it, won't last long. Out of all my students, you're the best I've got." Her grim comment makes you laugh softly. My, my. Ole Sasha has a sense of humor after all. Not that you knew enough of her before to notice whether she did or didn't. It is only lately that you two seem conjoined at the hip, what with you getting used to your current situation and the rest of the people around you withdrawing into their own world. Even Carl seems more distant than before, mourning the disappearance of some girl from the community he used to fancy. Michonne and Morgan are quite busy with each other, Daryl and Glenn are still disappeared with Abraham, Carol and Maggie out there looking for them. And then there's you two, not knowing exactly what to do to keep your calm in such an urgent state.

After you were well enough to get out of bed again you tried to regain your control and strength over the community, only to find most of its people doubting you even more. There was danger out there and you ignored it, instead taking your best people out of the walls, where they were needed, and drawing then into the woods. Your plan was a recipe for disaster. Or at least that's how they see it. They seem to have completely left out the part where the giant horde would have destroyed you all in due time had you not done something about it.

They trust Morgan much more. It sort of enrages you to a certain extent. You need to find a way to assert your leadership again, but you're in no condition to do so if you cannot even fight well. Morgan said it better once you got out of the hospital: _Get used to that hand first and regain control over your own abilities. Once you do that, you can start thinking about recovering this community's trust. You have me here now, and I'll take care of things as best I can_. You have to listen to him; at least this once. He's right and you trust him to keep things under control. After all, he saved your life once. Didn't he?

"You notice we haven't seen many walkers at the wall yet?" Sasha comments next to you a couple hours later, as you both make your way back to the community. "I was on watch last night and spotted five or six. But there should be more. There were certainly more that split from the herd we were leading." She gulps before continuing. "Where are they swarming?"

"I don't know, but they'll be coming this way soon enough, and by that time we gotta be prepared."

"You think we are?" You swallow hard at her question.

No.

As the sun starts setting on the horizon you take deep breaths, trying to keep a cool head. Had your plan worked without complications you would've been able to divert the threat long enough to prepare this population against it. It may have given you a little more time; valuable time. It's hopeless now, however. The dead are coming and that means only one thing; survival of the fittest. The walls won't keep them out and when they come inside you'll all have to fight to live. You know your group will survive. They've been through worse than this. And as for the rest… the people who are getting a clear enough idea of this world by now might make it or might not. And the ones who fall behind will die. That means most of them. That's how it is. You wish you could keep your hopes up, but you know better by now.

You turn to look at her and are taken aback by the sight in front of you. She looks relaxed as she walks, her frown gone and a slight smile on her lips. Under Bob's vest, her lose shirt flows in the wind, suggesting the curves underneath, and her dark skin shimmers with a golden glow. In this light, smiling like this, she looks so pretty. Your mind jumps at the thought. Sasha is family; why is it that you're having such strange thoughts about her now?

Her gaze meets yours and something holds you two in that place for a minute that seems to stretch into eternity.

"Hey, Sasha!" The scream breaks the spell and you curse whomever it is. You turn around to find Spencer approaching you and seize him up with one of your cold gazes. He seems not to notice though. Not very observant, that stupid boy. "Hey. How's rehabilitation?" He asks you with a smile and your contempt at it shows.

"How's training?" You throw back. Sasha has told you exactly how bad a sharpshooter Spencer is still. She says he's got potential, but it's still buried deep underneath the surface.

"I was actually wondering if… maybe Sasha here… would like to join me on a round." The way his eyes fly to the woman, taking her in without shame, make you strangely mad. You don't take the time to analyze why, you just know you want him away from her. "You're the star sharpshooter, you know… and the cutest too. Not that I've seen so many… cute sharpshooters..." Spencer continues, awkwardly and you share a look with Sasha that says it all. She's just as mad with Spencer's presence as you are. "So, what you say?"

"I…" She looks at you with eyes that plead 'save me' and you hold back the urge to burst out in laughter. You might actually try and teach this boy a lesson if the situation were different, but you realize he's young and horny and Sasha _is_ the cutest sharpshooter in business now. So you can't really blame him.

"Actually, we're not done yet." You tell Spencer as seriously as possible. Sasha's hold relaxes on the handle of her gun, but the boy doesn't notice. Again, not very observant. "Me and her, that is. I still have to get used to the machete again."

"Oh…" He mumbles confused, not quite believing it. "I thought Michonne was more likely to…"

"The answer's no, Spencer. I'm busy." She interrupts harshly, before nudging at you with her elbow to continue forward. Spencer is left standing there.

Serves him right, you think victorious. It takes a while to register that you are being senselessly protective of Sasha. What do you care if they both hit it off? It would actually be a good thing; help her get over her losses. You wince at that. The notion of someone flirting with Sasha makes you uncomfortable. You care an awful lot about her, you realize.

"That was a little rough." You comment after a little while, trying to dissipate your thoughts. She shrugs as if it wasn't a big deal. "He's hitting on you?"

"I think so."

She doesn't meet your eyes, but you don't expect her to. You can tell from a mile away she's not interested in this guy and his attentions on her make her uncomfortable.

"You want to punch him?" You certainly would like to do it for her.

"Don't go there, Rick." She whispers and you snort lightly.

Sasha is one of those women you have a hard time reading. You've never put so much effort in doing it anyways, but maybe that was a mistake of yours. She definitely has proven to be a valuable member of your group; someone you never thought you would grow so close to. There's also something in her; something you've only gotten a small glimpse at. Underneath that tough facade there's tenderness. You can tell.

Tenderness that's shown its face with Bob and Tyrese and seemed to die with them too. Is it really dead? Or is it still alive deep inside her, protecting itself from the world by an armor of inhumanity and coldness?

"Are you ok?" You ask, for once really wanting to unmask her. There's an itching curiosity inside you that needs to know. "After… Bob? Tyrese?"

She takes a while to answer.

"I don't want to die anymore if that's what you're asking…" You turn to her, surprised, and she can see in your eyes that you don't know what she's talking about. Did she want to die? When? After Tyrese died? Was that why Michonne was so worried about her? Why didn't you even notice? "You didn't know, did you?" Shame shakes your entire body as you realize how dumb you've been. So focused on taking control over this community, you forgot to watch over your own. If Sasha's like this, how are the others faring with their own problems? "It's ok. I got over it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I still have an answer to find." She mutters. "Bob would've wanted me to find it."

"And you're confident that you will?" You ask, still ashamed of yourself. The look she gives you makes you withdraw. It's the wary look of someone who doesn't want her walls trespassed. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"It is. You're my family." She sighs. "I don't know if I will find it or not. Maybe I won't. But it's worth the try." You nod and the silence suddenly grows uncomfortable. As you approach a certain house you take a look at the porch and are surprised of seeing Jessie sitting on it, smoking. As she spots you she gets up, an expectant look in her face. She looks like she wants you to come over. You turn to Sasha and she gives you a smile and a nod. "Do you really need help with that machete-thing?"

You hesitate for a moment, not sure of the meaning of the expression in her eyes.

"No." You finally say. "I'll be fine. Get some rest… away from Spencer."

She smiles at that.

"Will do. Definitely." She comments as she starts walking away. You take a deep breath and try to clear your head from confusing thoughts, before heading towards Jessie, who's expecting you still.

"Hey."

"Hey." You rest your weight against a column. "Everything ok?" She looks at you long before shrugging.

"As far as it goes." Your mouth twitches up at that. Not quite a smile or a scowl. "How'd it go with Sasha?"

"Good." You answer simply. The wariness in her eyes catches your attention. "What?" You ask, unsure of her expression.

Why are women so hard to read?

"I think she likes you." She finally says. You laugh openly at that.

"No. She's like family."

"Maybe to you." She whispers and her tone is strangely wild. You look at her, wondering. Ever since the attack of the wolves there's a certain ferociousness to her. The manse housewife inside her seems to be dying slowly, being replaced by a woman with a feral desire to protect what's left of her family. You like that very much. It's something you wish you could see unravel in her. It's exactly what she needs to survive in this world. "I… know I've been distant to you these last months." She continues. "I was coping with everything and I…"

"I get it. I'm the man who killed your husband. You should stay away from me." She looks at you with a sly smile you've never seen in her.

A few weeks ago it would have made you want to tear her clothes off and take her right there and then. Now, however, those impulses seem to have died down a little. You still feel attracted to her, just… not as much as you were. Maybe it's the feeling that Michonne is slipping away from your fingers, growing closer to Morgan and straying farther away from you; maybe it's something else…

"No, I should get close to you. In here we don't understand it that well yet, but I know now that if I don't fight I will die and so will my children. So I'm gonna change. Become what this world needs me to become. And I need you to do it." You nod, happy to hear it from her own lips. "You said you'd take care of me, remember?"

The question takes you by surprise. She's giving you that look of desire and expectation and you realize you have a decision to make. You swallow hard. You honestly weren't expecting this. You thought there would be more time for you to settle down before you had to choose a certain woman. Jessie is still waiting for your answer and you can't back down now. So you gather yourself and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I will." You tell her, assuring. The answer's good enough and she leans to kiss you, wrapping her arms around your neck. Her lips are hungry and her hold possessive. You can see right through her; she may not want you per-se. She wants you because of what you represent. Power, security, a new set of amoral values.

She may be growing into a stronger human, but she's still weak and you can tell: she wants to latch onto your strength. Expects you will protect her and her children.

She's holding onto an alpha-male, not a man. Little does it matter to you, however. You're an alpha, you need her and your most atavistic part claimed her the moment you killed her husband. Maybe it is just the need for sex, maybe it is something else. Anyhow, you're not going to back away now that you have her in your possession.

"I was wondering… maybe you can stay with me tonight." She asks. You don't give her a verbal answer, instead traveling straight down her chin towards her neck and sucking hard on it, hearing her small whimpers.

 **-o-**

Hidden in the shadows you can see both of them on the porch kissing like there was no tomorrow -maybe there isn't- and feel the bile in the back of your throat. You've grown closer to Rick than you expected and seeing him with one of this women makes you sick. You sigh, trying to get rid of the discomfort, and turn to continue on your way, not understanding why you even stopped in the first place.

There is a voice in the back of your head, but its whisper is so low it is easy for you to ignore it. You don't need anymore confusion at this stage.

You arrive at the house and wonder whether you should actually get in and try to get some sleep. There is a deep exhaustion inside you at all times that doesn't go away but gets only worse every time you rest. You don't really want to wake up to Bob and Tyrese missing still after your dreams tried to convince you it was the other way around. And the presence of your family in the house doesn't make things easier. Most of them are gone now, but Michonne and Rosita still look at you with so much worry you just want to aim the rifle at their faces and force them to look somewhere else and leave you alone.

No. You don't need those expressions or condescending words right now. You need to be alone with your thoughts for a while. Maybe after a few moments of silence you can finally gather yourself for one night at least.

You set the rifle on one of the chairs and look at it for a while. Instinctively more than rationally, you remove the vest and cover the seat with it, and sit on the edge of the handrail, staring at it.

"Hey Bob…" You mumble. The vest doesn't respond, obviously. Not that you expected it to. Right? Does this mean you've completely lost it? After having made a bed from a pile of walkers this doesn't seem like that crazy a thing anymore. "I know it's insane to be talking to your vest right now, but I just miss you so much… I'm so lost in this world without you… without Tyrese… I still feel like I'm gonna drown. I know you believed in me. Just like you believed in everyone. Stupid man." You snicker and look at the vest as if you were expecting it to do the same. Bob's laughter resonates like a faint memory inside your head. "You and my brother would've known what to do. I don't. You would've known exactly what to tell me when I… lost myself." Silence. "You would've known the answer, wouldn't you?"

The vest keeps silent, listening to your pointless banter. You sigh, wondering what is it you expected to get out of this.

"Talking to your ghosts?" A voice asks behind you, making you jump. You turn around to find Michonne leaning on the door, a mug in her hands and that serene look seizing you up. "Don't ask the dead for answers. They know just as little as us about what's gonna come." You sigh and turn away from her. A few days ago you would've pushed her away, but the worse days of your PTSD are over now and you realize you need support somehow. Michonne sits in front of you and you both look at the vest on the chair, as if expecting for it to say something.

"Is she a better conversationalist than two walkers?" The woman asks and you snort sadly.

"No. At least those growl."

"Hmm." Michonne nods.

"It worked for you." You mumble. "It may mean you're stronger than me, I don't know. For me, however… things will never be the same."

"For no one. This is not who I was. I used to be very different. Fun, happy, cheerful… then it happened and I lost myself. And it took so much to come back from that… trust me." Michonne lends you the mug in her hands. Tea. Memories of the days of quarantine at the prison, of Hershel and Bob, come back to haunt you at the sight of it. "First time I saw you go off I saw myself reflected in your eyes. Exactly the way I lost it; and it frightened me. Thought you might never get out."

"You got out."

"Which is why I'm here, watching over you." You turn to her, a smile in your lips.

"Like an older sister?" She looks at you and smiles back and you feel something warm start to cover a certain hole inside. Yes, maybe you can give this a chance. "I keep on searching for a reason, Michonne. But every time I find it my fears overtake and the certainty is there… I will lose it all again. Bob and Tyreese wouldn't see it that way. Why did they have to die? Why wasn't it me? What's the answer?"

"I can't tell you. You have to find it yourself. Just don't try to find it in the past." Michonne gets up and walks towards the chair, retrieving Bob's vest and clutching it in her hands. She extends it to you and you take it, unsure. "The thing about hitting rock bottom… is that you cannot go further down. You've survived your darkest time. From there you can just go up." As you put the vest on again she cracks her neck and flexes her strong arms, before checking she still has the katana on her back. "I got watch-duty… see you tomorrow. Maybe."

"If you wake up."

"When have I not?" You give her a look and she smiles at it. "Bye."

"Sister?" She turns towards you as you call. "Thank you."

And with that she's gone and you are left standing there, still holding the mug in your hands.


	2. Monster, Protector, Flame

**Monster**

 _(Broken - Seether ft. Amy Lee)_

The notion is clear inside your head. Something you cannot wave off:

 _Are you dead inside?_

The answer is blatant and it shakes you to your core.

 _Yes, I am._

You don't know if you'll ever come to life again.

 **-o-**

You told her to let go of the kid's hand but she refused to listen. It was her son, her little boy, and she wouldn't let go even after his face had been turned into a pulp by the walkers eating him. As they started to climb onto her arm she turned around, her face contorted in horror.

"Rick! Help me! Please! Please, help me!" Her arm shot forward and latched onto the first thing she found. Carl's shirt, pulling him onto the swarm of walkers.

And you saw red.

Slash!

One hit from your machete and Jessie's scream pierced your ears. She still didn't let go. Carl was losing his balance.

Slash!

Her arm snapped off her body, still hanging onto Carl's shirt, and your horrified gaze watched Jessie disappear behind hundreds of rotting hands, her eyes piercing into yours until the end.

Those eyes that haunt you right now.

You've seen your own brutality in them.

 _First my husband, then my kid, now me. How could you?!_

You shouldn't care about it, you tell yourself. She put Carl at risk. You had to do it. You had to.

You keep repeating it to yourself, but somehow it doesn't register. You're the one who told Jessie she'd be safe with you. You've failed her. Just like you failed Lori. Ron saw how you abandoned his mother to the herd. He was still in front of you and his scream as your machete chopped her arm off reminded you of him a little too late.

"You monster!" You heard him scream.

"Ron!" Carl put his hands up, trying to calm him.

"Monster!" Ron raised his gun with a trembling hand, pointing it at Carl. "You'll see what it feels like, monster!"

"Ron, no!"

Bang!

"CAAAAAAARL!"

Carl fell to the floor and your hand moved automatically, opening Ron's throat with a wild scream. From the corner of your eye you saw Michonne in front of you, but then everything seemed to fade as you watched your boy's body lying on the floor; his left eye now a red pulp.

Michonne's body pushed you out of the way and you saw her take him in her arms and start running down the street towards Denise's. You ran behind her, tears clouding your eyes. Every walker you killed seemed to have Jessie's or Ron's face, but you barely registered it as your mind kept on screaming.

Carl's dead, it repeated, my son is dead.

 **-o-**

He's alive. Carl's alive.

Denise told you he was stable and that he would make it. But when you asked her about him ever waking up she grew quiet.

"We have to trust he's strong enough." She said to you and Michonne, who was crying her eyes out as silently as possible.

You exit the room after Denise manages to throw you and Michonne out; take one last look at the boy lying on the bed before the door closes in front of him. Michonne's hand in yours suddenly loosens and she wrenches free from your grasp, running towards the door.

You follow her with your eyes as she throws herself into Morgan's arms and starts crying uncontrollably.

Michonne.

Her head rests on the man's chest, her tears dampening his bloody shirt. Slowly, Morgan caresses her head.

"Your boy…" He asks you. "Is he…?"

"He's…"

"He's alive." Michonne mutters, interrupting you. Morgan still looks at your dead expression, fear and disappointment crossing his face. You want to scream at him. If only to release your frustration and desperation on another living creature.

"He's gonna make it. We're alive. That's all that matters." He turns her head towards his. "It's ok, beautiful. Here…" He puts something you cannot see in her hand and closes her fingers around it. She looks up to him and smiles back, her eyes shimmering with tears. You feel the pang of jealousy as you notice the sweet expression in them. Guess she doesn't have it with you anymore. She leans forward and plants a kiss against his lips, and you widen, your gaze immediately dropping to the floor.

She doesn't even look in your direction. Nor does Morgan for that matter. They never do. All this romantic banter happening back and forth between them, straight in front of you; like they don't even care about the fact that you are there…

You clear your throat and they pull away from each other quickly. Morgan hums as Michonne lays her head against his shoulder. He turns to you, inquisitively, and you realize you're one too many inside this room.

"I trust you're in good hands." Is the only thing you say to her before exiting through the door.

You walk out, to the cool air. Want to punch something. Someone. Morgan, to be precise. For kissing her. For having her.

True you've been fixed in Jessie this whole time. But somewhere deep inside yourself, somehow, you had kind of expected Michonne would… No. She fears you now.

You grimace at that. Michonne isn't the same with you anymore. She heeds your orders, follows you when you ask her to. But she never lets you touch her.

At some point, after you killed Ron, you tried to put your hand on her shoulder. You still remember vividly the way she jumped out of reach, running like a scared child. The rage burns inside you at thinking Morgan may have poisoned her against you. But he is not the kind of man who would do that. And Michonne is the kind of woman who sees easily through the bullshit.

Through your bullshit too.

Maybe you're the monster she fears you are.

Do you even know who you are anymore?

"No… no…" You start doubting yourself. You know how that goes every time.

Every time…

Lori's ghost is in front of you looking down at the mess you've become. Behind her is Jessie, still whispering 'help me'. You want to run away, but Hershel's voice screams inside your head:

 _Get back here!_

You can't leave. You're trapped. You're in charge.

"Rick?" Your head jolts up at the figure in front of you. Dark skinned woman holding that long-shot rifle, dried blood on her shirt and calm eyes seizing you up.

Sasha.

There's something about the way she approaches you; careful and rash at the same time, that keeps your entire attention on her.

 **-o-**

"Found Daryl?" You gulp at his question, burning with guilt and confused.

"No." Silence. "We keep on looking." His eyes run down your body, causing goosebumps for some strange reason. In some way you know they're the eyes of a madman. "You're ok?"

He frowns at your question, seemingly having to think about the answer.

"I…" He gulps. "Yeah." He doesn't sound convinced.

"Carl?"

"He's… steady." He seems completely lost and panicked, like an animal in a cage. You saw him like this once, the first time you came to the prison. Is he… crazy? No. He can't be losing it right now. "I can't stay with him tonight, I can't… Denise told me… I can't stay with him…" You nod at that and walk forward, offering your hand to him.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

"He won't wake up…"

"Rick."

"He won't wake up." You crouch in front of him.

"Rick." His eyes meet yours, wide and scared, and spark something inside you. A sort of care and worry you forgot you had. "I'll take you home. Come on."

Your hand reaches towards his trembling one, grabbing it softly and pulling, and like an automat he obeys to the non-verbal order, standing up and letting you guide him.

 **-o-**

You cook what you find; which is not much. And you've never been good at this shit. Even before the apocalypse Tyreese used to tell you you were the worst cook in the whole state of Florida. But fuck it; the days when people could complain about food are over and you've had to eat worse things than… dried noodles and tomato sauce. Or at least you hope that's what it tastes like.

You set the plate in front of Rick and sit next to him on the chair. It takes a couple minutes for him to react and look down to it. He grabs the fork you set by its side, his hand trembling, and starts eating without complaint.

"You don't have to… stay and watch me eat." You gulp at that.

"It's ok. I got nothing better to do." A shameless lie. There's a hundred things you should be doing right now. Clearing the perimeter and helping the Alexandrians dispose of half-eaten bodies should be some of them. But you are more worried about your leader right now and his mental stability.

You heard what happened to Jessie, Ron and Sam and it's horrible. And Carl… If the boy dies none of you know what will come of his father, and losing the head of the group right now means trouble. Daryl's disappeared and Glenn is presumably dead. Morgan's a dumb-ass, Carol's in a crisis and Maggie… poor Maggie is a mess. Rick losing it because his son died would be the last drop that would make what's left of this family, this community, collapse. And since there's no one else to keep him together right now, you guess the responsibility rests on you.

"You think I will lose it, do you?" You hear him ask and want to slap yourself. Are you really this obvious? "I won't lose it." Rick's tone is so low and dark it makes goosebumps crawl down your spine. You turn to look at him and find his stare firmly set on you. "I'm in charge, I know it. And I can never lose it again. I cannot second guess, I have to keep on going." He swallows hard. "I was the one who took this community by force. So I'll do what I came here to do. I'll keep us safe."

It is not him you doubt. For some reason you've never doubted him. For some reason all of your pessimism seems to die off whenever it comes to him.

You have the certainty he can pull off this mess.

"Ok." Is your only answer. He must sense the honesty in it, cause he seems to relax next to you. Relieved that there's still someone who trusts him.

"I never thanked you for saving me." He starts. "Thought I might die in that RV, but then… you came. I told you to leave the weak behind. Told you to keep on going if they slowed you down. But you came for me. And this…" He waves his stump in front of his face, still looking at it like it was the first time he sees it. "I am the weak one now."

"You can learn to use one hand. You've been doing great." You wait a few seconds before continuing. "And your boy… he's going to wake up."

He doesn't respond instantly to that, but when he does his voice is broken.

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

A small knock interrupts you both and you get up immediately, walking towards the door and opening. Michonne is on the porch, her arms holding a bulge carefully wrapped in a blanket. A small keychain with something furry at its end hangs from her hand and you wonder what it is.

"Rick in there?" She asks in a hushed tone.

"Yeah."

"With you?"

"Yeah." Michonne's stare is hard and shocked and you want to slap her. You don't know what she's thinking, but you're pretty sure she wasn't this worried about you taking Rick home when she was busy with Morgan.

The woman extends the small bulge in her arms towards you. Judith asleep. You start to take her in your arms, but she seems to change her mind midway.

"I'll put her to sleep." She says, retrieving the little thing and pressing her against her with possessiveness. You frown at that. "I don't think Rick will need you here anymore."

"Who are you to decide that?" You ask, instantly defensive.

"I'm not deciding anything, I just…"

"Michonne…" The voice comes from behind and both of you turn towards Rick, who's standing there with an icy glare that would freeze Alexandria to its core. "Give her Judith." He demands. "And go."

Confused doesn't come close to explain your feelings. You know there's a silent war going on in here, but are not sure of what sparked it.

"Rick…" Michonne starts.

"Go!" His roar makes the both of you jump. He withdraws immediately, like a wounded animal, and you turn to look at the woman in front of you, who's still clutching the bulge against her. After a few minutes of silent brooding she finally gives up and lets you take it from her.

"Good night." She whispers, taking a few steps back. From the corner of your eye you catch Morgan's figure coming down the street and in the direction of the house, probably to retrieve his new beau.

You close the door after Michonne's gone and walk inside the house, where you find Rick sitting on the couch, staring into blank space. He's still covered in walker's guts, blood and god knows what else. So are you. Both of you need to get cleaned up, but your leader needs to rest urgently on top of that.

"I'll put her to sleep. Go take a shower and put yourself to bed." You command, harsher than you intended. He doesn't answer and you grit your teeth silently. Looking at the little thing in your arms you decide you'll get that man into the shower and into bed one way or another. But first things first.

You walk up the stairs, still wary of your surroundings, even though this house has already been checked. As you set the little thing inside the cradle she sniffs and the way in which she rubs her nose with her tiny hand keeps your focus on her. She's always given you so much hope and tenderness. You didn't believe you would ever see another baby after the world came down, but this little thing is still here and still drawing breath and seems to give you all hope just by looking at its tiny smile. Your hand strokes her head softly before you withdraw and leave the thing to rest. You don't close the door and take the walky talky with you.

As you come down the stairs you find Rick in the same place you left him. The room is entirely dark, so at some point he must've gotten up to turn the lights off. He's dealing with grief in his own way. The grief of having lost Jessie, of the uncertainty of Carl's life, of the implication of Michonne being in love with Morgan…

But most of all, the grief that comes with the weight of his own responsibilities.

You walk towards the couch and sit next to him, and in the most silent way possible reach towards his hand and take it, trying to give him comfort. For long minutes you two stay like that, without uttering a word or moving a single muscle.

"Do you feel dead inside?" He finally asks. You don't respond, but something tells you he doesn't want you to. "I know I do. I feel like I died a very long time ago."

Yes. That's exactly how it feels.

"Maybe it is time you come back to life." You tell him, not entirely sure yourself of what that means.

"I don't know how to do that."

"There must be a way." Silence. "We're the ones who survived this. We are the ones who don't die. No point in being dead inside if we are gonna make it till the end."

"Maybe we won't."

"All the more reason to." You turn to him. "Don't you think?"

He's looking at you in a way that'd make you back down or attack if the situation were different.

"You sound so sure." Yeah, you know. Truth is, you're not being entirely honest. You were never this positive and the way you try to keep your own hopes alive is more forced than genuine. But it's what you need and you're convinced Rick needs it too if he's gonna get over this.

"I'm not. I just hope… for Bob, for Tyrese… that it's true."

"Is that the answer you're looking for?" You gulp, turning away from him. His penetrant blues are still fixed in you in a way that not only makes you uncomfortable, but flustered. You move an inch away, only to find that your hand is still firmly grasped between his fingers. You don't remember him corresponding your touch. After long minutes of silence and those cold eyes seizing you up he finally lets go and gets up.

"Take a shower before you get inside that bed." You whisper. He looks at you surprised at the fact that you're bossing him around. But after you answering to his gaze with one of your own he nods softly. "Good night." You whisper as you see him withdraw.

"Night." He whispers.

 **Protector**

 _(Hold On - Angus & Julia Stone)_

The group of wolves is at the gates now. Twenty, twenty-five maybe. And they brought Daryl with them, threatening to kill him unless you let them in.

"We could kill them all if we want to. We have the gun-power." Carol ventures.

"And risk Daryl like that?" The woman gulps at that. "No. We need a distraction. Divert their attention from Daryl and then we can attack them. I'll go out; pretend a negotiation. Sasha, watch-tower. I give you the signal and you fire. Not before, not after."

"Got it."

"The rest of you: Spencer, Michonne, Francine, Rosita, Carol… Morgan…" He turns towards the dark skinned man with a severe glare. "Hide behind the walls. At my signal you all fire. Not one of them must be left standing. Understand?"

"Rick…" Morgan intervenes. "I. Won't. Kill."

"Yes you will." He comes very close to the man, clearly trying to intimidate him. "This is not about your cheap philosophy, Morgan. This is about survival. This community's survival."

Michonne intervenes, walking between both men, clearly trying to protect Morgan. Rick withdraws angrily and with one look from his eyes the people around him start to move into position. Michonne leads Morgan aside, taking his face in her hands and trying to bring him to reason.

You don't know if it'll work. You love your sister and her current boyfriend has proven to be useful. But his ideas about not killing the living make you really angry. It's like he doesn't even know what this world is anymore. Or maybe he does and refuses to see it.

As you place yourself in your habitual spot you can see Rick exit through the gate, alone, and meet up with them.

You narrow your eyes. The wolves facing this community in such an upfront way seems too suicidal, even for such a small, unorganized group. They know you have more weapons and more numbers. There's something fishy going on here. You reach towards the walky talky.

"Spencer? You copy?"

A few seconds pass, but finally, his answer comes.

"Yeah."

"I smell a rat. Need you to check if there's no marksman hidden somewhere around here."

"You got it."

The night is not that dark, so you can still see well. You use the scope as your guide, checking for any movement around you. There's a walker very far away, but other than that, nothing.

"Sasha, at four thirty from your position. Think I spotted something." You gulp, following Spencer's directions, but there's nothing there. Stupid boy, misleading you. As you make your way back, however, you see it. There's someone with a rifle aiming directly at Rick. You knew it!

The gates open all of a sudden and from the corner of your eye you see Morgan come out, dragging a man by a chain. It feels as if someone had just slapped you across the face once you realize he's a wolf. What is a wolf doing in here?

"What the hell?!" You realize the distraction has made you lose sight of your target and you look for it again, only to find it's out of your range now. "Fuck!"

Rick takes out his gun all of a sudden and spreads the wolf's brains on the floor with one bang. Idiot! Suddenly, all hell breaks lose. The wolf in front of Rick raises his crossbow towards Daryl and Rick shoots him as well. The twenty people following him lunge towards him and Morgan, and the storm of gunshots fills the air. You try to find the sniper behind the car, but he's hiding damn well. No matter, if he wants to shoot, he'll have to come out anyway.

The gunshots stop and you don't look at the mess, concentrated in your target. You hear, however, as one of the enemies falls to his knees and pleads for mercy. Clenching your teeth, you force yourself to ignore it. Mercy doesn't exist in this world anymore. Much less if a person made the mistake of becoming the enemy.

The gunshot tells you the pleader's dead, and it's in that moment when your target comes out. A young boy, his rifle aiming right in Rick's direction.

"Rick…" your finger trembles as it pulls the trigger.

Bang!

And the boy falls to the ground.

 **-o-**

You look at the body at your feet and Daryl standing up. His eyes, you realize, are full of accusation. As the gate opens, you recognize the shadow walking outside as that of Michonne, and before anyone can prevent it she hits her own boyfriend across the face.

"You asshole!" She roars. "You were keeping an enemy inside our own gates?!"

"Listen to me, Michonne please…" Hearing the bastard's voice makes your own blood boil inside your veins and you lunge towards him as well. "Rick, don't!"

His cane hits you hard across the waist, throwing you against the pavement and away from him.

"You son of a bitch!" You scream as you get up, lunging towards him again.

"Don't! I don't want to hurt you!" He hits your face, chest, arm; deviating your attack every time you try to reach him. Finally, you can't take in anymore and take out your gun again. Michonne's scream resonates in your ears, but Daryl grabs her as she tries to put herself in between you and the dark-skinned man.

"Rick don't! Please, I'm begging you!"

You don't care about what she may think anymore. Morgan has put you all in danger. What would have happened if that wolf had found his way out?

"I could've done it!" Morgan says, his eyes meeting yours. "I could've killed him! I wanted to, Rick! But I didn't because this isn't the solution! If only you would've listened! They were very willing to trade prisoners! What you did out there… you killed them all!"

"Are you an idiot?!" You roar, the gun still pointing at his forehead. "You're forgetting what they did to us?! They would've gone out there and done the same to other people! They would've come back here if we had let them! You put us all in danger!"

"Rick…" Daryl asks, aside, still holding onto Michonne's wriggling and fighting body. "Brother, put the gun down."

Your hand starts shaking again as you turn to look at his and Michonne's expressions. There's so much fear in their eyes… You turn towards the other inhabitants, their gazes all set on you.

 _Maybe you're the monster they fear you are._

Sasha makes her way through the people; you look at her and back into Morgan's eyes still fixed in yours.

"You still don't get it." Morgan whispers. "You've gone through so much, I understand that. I was exactly like you at some point. You remember. But this is not the answer, killing is not the answer. Michonne, look at me." He asks his girlfriend, who's static in Daryl's arms. "You told me you just want this nightmare to end. There's a way to end it. To make peace with our former selves and embrace life and values again. I just want to help you. We can find another way. A better way. Together."

His eyes are so full of hope, so peaceful in the face of death…

And you cannot stand them. You don't want to listen to him anymore. Hear his lies and convince yourself that they could be true.

You believed those lies once; when Hershel was alive, when Beth was still breathing, when your wife's arms still embraced you and Shane was still your best friend. You're tired of hope, you don't need it in your life.

As you lower your gun you know that he can see it too. Your disdain for what he is; what he represents.

"No. Not with you. Not anymore." You answer. "You betrayed us. Put us at risk like it was some damn game. You let them out and they came back and if it weren't for our people there I'd be dead. Daryl would be dead." You make a pause before continuing, conscious that you'll never be able to reverse this decision. "You have until tomorrow to leave this place. And never… come… back."

Morgan gulps, turning towards the rest of the community, but they are utterly muted and unwilling to contradict their leader's decision. You can see the betrayal in his eyes. He even turns towards Michonne, pleading silently for support, but she just looks down. He finally meets your gaze again and nods.

"Fine. I get it. I do." He says. "But mark my words, Rick: One day you'll look back and regret all of this. One day you'll realize there's a better way."

You turn away, your hand clutched in a tight fist.

"Get out of my sight."

 **-o-**

"What she doin'?" Daryl asks as you approach him, wanting to see what he sees. Michonne is standing outside the gates, walking in circles around one of the reanimated corpses of a deceased wolf. Every time the creature lunges against her she pushes out of reach and rounds it, repeating the process again and again.

"I don't know."

"She's supposed t' kill da fucker already." You wonder why he's so concerned for Michonne all of a sudden. The creature lunges against the woman, but this time she doesn't dodge it, instead letting it attack and punching it hard across the jaw to evade its teeth. Daryl lifts his crossbow, but you put a hand on it, stopping him from shooting.

"She can handle it."

"I know, I just ain' like her t' do that." You turn to him, not understanding. "We were together in the woods fer months. I can tell exactly when she's losin' it. Those times she could end up hurtin' herself an' she wouldn' care." Michonne? Losing it? Does that even happen? Daryl looks at you and guesses your incredulity. He sighs, shaking his head as if he knew something you don't. "I should go talk to her."

"No, I'll get her. You stay here, cover me."

You descend from the watch-post and run to the gate, opening and closing it quickly. You approach Michonne just as she's kicking the creature against the dirt.

"Sister…" She turns to you for a mili-second, only to focus on the creature coming back up. She takes out her sword and you assume she's finally going to give it a rest, but she hits the walker's arm instead of his head and you see as it goes flying, the creature limping away for a second before lunging back against her. She rounds it again, playing with it. There's something in her eyes that scares you. An emptiness you've never seen. "Stop that!" You scream out of impulse. The creature starts walking straight towards you and Michonne reaches it, cutting its leg so that it falls on the floor. You take a step back, feeling horrified for some reason. You've killed tons of walkers, but that's not what Michonne's doing. As the thing drags itself towards you she comes back and plunges her sword on its chest. It's not just unsettling, it's horrifying. "Stop! Now!" You scream. She doesn't listen. "Let go!"

Michonne's sword comes down again, cutting the thing in half and you cannot take it anymore. You run towards her and push her away. The walker's hand reaches your ankle, but you quickly manage to step on it and crush its head with your boot. You look at it for a few seconds, panting. This is the wolf who pleaded for mercy. Why didn't Rick shoot him in the head?

Did he want him to turn?

You meet Michonne's eyes and she gives you a mocking smile, signaling that she's thought the same.

"You see that?" She asks in an unsettling tone. "This is who we are, Sasha. This, right here!" She comes back to kick the corpse's guts, splashing them around. You wince, more at her actions than at the guts. "We are nothing anymore!"

You've never seen her lash out like this. Turning your gaze towards Daryl's place you realize this is who she is when she's grieving. This is whom she saw when she looked at you.

"Morgan putting stupid thoughts in your head." You comment. You can tell she's hurting, but she has to understand where Rick is coming from. "And this is not the time for you to have an existential crisis. Keep your shit together, Michonne."

"Keep my shit together?! Do you even know what that means anymore, Sasha?! How many people have you killed?! Do you even remember their faces?!"

"Why does that matter now?!" She laughs at your comment, making you angry. "I've killed people who were threats to this group, yes! People who killed Bob! And I'd do it again! People who harm us deserve to die, Michonne!"

She stops and looks hard into your eyes.

"Just like Philip then." You gulp, disoriented by that. Memories of Woodbury and the prison attack come back to you. "Philip Blake? The Governor? The man who destroyed our home, remember him?"

"Of course I do!"

"Where do we draw the line?! Is there still a line anymore?! What makes us different from Philip?! From them?! What, Sasha?! We are no different than they are now. We're monsters. If this is what it takes to survive then I think there's the answer to your fucking question." She points at the walker. "There! Look at it! That's who you are. It's who I am. It's what all of us have become."

Michonne takes a deep breath and for a moment you think she's gonna start crying. But the woman is stronger than that. After a minute of silence she swallows her tears and walks back towards the gate, leaving you alone to process what you've just heard. You look at the dark sky above asking yourself if she's right or just rambling nonsense. Surely there must be a way to justify your brutality to yourself.

Maybe there isn't. But that should be ok with you; with all of you.

This world ain't what it was once. Which is why the good people like your brother are dead. Because they believed in a long ago faded fantasy. Your gaze fixes on a slow shadow approaching. You lift the rifle, but the walker ignores you completely as it kneels in front of one of the bodies lying on the road and starts ripping its flesh. You gulp as you recognize the corpse as that of the boy you shot.

Something vile and dreadful crawls down your skin at the sight.

 **-o-**

You find her atop the wall after Daryl's left. Rifle in hand and her sight set on the road ahead. There's something magnificent about the way she stands there, lonely and determined, Bob's vest shaking in the wind. You wonder whether she's thinking about him right now. Your need to talk to her is so sudden and unexplainable you don't know how to take it yourself. You just know you need the kind of company she gave you after Jessie's death. There's something about her delicate form of support. Deep inside she feels dead too, searching for an answer to a million questions, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders and the dead weight of her lost ones in her arms, and maybe that's the reason why she gets you.

She turns around, seemingly guessing someone's watching her, and her eyes grow wary as she sees you standing there. Without thinking too much about it you make your way up the ladder until you are standing next to her, your eyes still firmly set on hers as you watch her shy away.

"If looks could kill you would have burned me to the ground now." She comments, upfront, and you lower your gaze so that she doesn't feel that uncomfortable. There's a hint of a smile playing in your mouth at her jab.

"So... you do have a sense of humor."

"Excuse me?" Her dark eyes connect with yours, angry.

"Now that… is a look that could kill." You observe, amused at the way you annoy her. "So unsettling coming from such a sweet woman."

The air changes between you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You don't know why you uttered them in such a way, but they seem to fit and you won't take them back. Her eyes widen and a blush creeps up her face. Sweet like her; you could get used to that.

"You're just saying that." She whispers, careful not to give anything away. You smile openly at that. Wish you were; wish these feelings you're starting to develop for her were nothing more than playfulness. You don't want them to ever be clear.

"Sure I am." There's an awkward silence between both of you and you wonder whether you just went too far this time. "So how's operation getting-rid-of-Spencer going?" You ask, trying to change the subject.

She sucks the air in.

"You been keeping an eye on that?"

"Been keeping an eye on you." You can guess more than see, her smile at that.

"Me too."

"Yeah, I think that's quite obvious given last night's performance." You turn to her, focusing on her every detail. Her lithe, athletic figure covered by lose clothes, her skin dark and smooth as sin, her hair firmly wrapped in a bun, her lovely features. "Thank you, by the way."

"It's what I'm here for, isn't it?" She looks at you inquisitively, noticing the attention you're giving her.

"We've been through so much together. You've all been there for me in every wrong turn I've made. Every fall we've had, I've put my life in your hands and you've always protected it. Wish I could've done the same for you."

"You have." A sigh escapes your mouth at her comment.

"Your brother, Bob, my wife, Glenn, Hershel… Jessie and her children…" She leans a little closer to you, looking to comfort you again. But that's not what you need from her right now. "You still trust me?"

She swallows at that.

"Yes." The silence that precedes that answer is one of deep uncertainty. She turns to look at you and you can see it in her eyes; her fear for the future. You wish you could give her some sort of comfort. Give your family, your people, a feeling of security. The weight of the world on your shoulders is such a heavy burden to carry…

You don't wanna think about it right now. You've done what you had to do. Taken harsh decisions that have made you doubt yourself, but they are already made and you can't turn back now.

She's still eyeing you, trying to guess what it is you need from her. You lean against the railing, turning your gaze towards the horizon.

"Tell me something." You ask.

"What?"

"Anything. How were you as a child?" She answers after a long pause.

"I used to follow Tyrese around and copy his every move." You snort at that and she does the same silently.

"Why?"

"Wanted to be like him, I guess. I don't know." She swallows hard. "He was always stronger than me and I hated that. I wanted to be able to lift as much as him, so I thought… 'maybe if I copy him for long enough I'll be just as strong…'."

"Did it work?" She throws you a sideways glance before putting her elbow against the railing and her hand up in an arm-wrestling position. She looks at you with defiance. You guffaw at that. "Seriously?"

"I dare you." There's something fun in her eyes that you've never seen until now. You adore the way you're slowly starting to discover her.

"I don't compete with girls. It's hardly fair." You mock, making her look at you with anger.

"Chicken."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Smiling wide for the first time in days, you put your elbow against the wood like her, taking her hand.

"It's on." Turns out she _is_ stronger than she seems. And a good tactician too. Every time you think you have her she turns on you, draining you of your own energy. Still, you manage to overpower her a couple times and the spontaneous match ends up with a tie while she complains on you cheating. "It's not ok to blame it on the winner, little girl."

"You're not the winner."

"Yes I am!"

"It was a tie!"

"We're all winners, then."

"One final round."

"No. You cheat."

"Oh, come on!"

"You're so competitive!" She laughs so cheerful you cannot stop yourself. Your lips land on her cheek, a few inches away from her mouth and you can feel as she freezes in place. You linger there for a few seconds before withdrawing and looking away, pretending to be oblivious of her shock. "You find your answer?"

It takes her a while to understand what you're talking about, but when she does she flashes you a nervous smile.

"You keep on asking. Huh?"

"I'm curious."

"You don't even know what the question is." That's true.

"What's the question?" Her smile is mischievous and she withdraws from the railing, her shift now over. She throws you the rifle and starts descending the ladder. "Your mystery is a big pain in the ass, you realize that?"

You hear her laugh and smile like an idiot.

 **-o-**

"The Hilltop?" Paul Monroe, a young man with long hair who showed up at your door a few hours ago, bringing Glenn and Abraham back with him, nods at that.

"We're a good community, larger than yours and not so far away. We can help you with what you need and you can help us in exchange." Rick looks over at Deanna and she nods, understanding.

"We may need to reinforce the walls. And medicine. Maybe also people with high expertise in reconstruction."

"We have all that. We can get it for you."

"At what price?" Rick asks, still sceptic. This all seems too good to be true. Not only have you just found out that one of your best men and friends is still alive, but there's also more than one community still standing and they are not hostile. Blessings like this don't just fall from the sky.

Paul takes a sip from the water he just asked for and clears his throat.

"Here's the thing… there's this group of… people… I wouldn't call them outlaws, since there's no law anymore. Let's just say they're quite hostile. We've been forced to make a truce with them. We give them half of everything in exchange for their… _protection_." He accentuates the last word with irony. "Truth is they cause more damage than good and we cannot fight them alone. Gregory, our leader, refuses to stand up against them. He's convinced that if we make Negan happy he'll let us be. But I am tired of being Negan's slave, and I know my people is too. We need your help and you need ours. So, what do you say?" Rick stays silent for a while, before turning towards you and Michonne, who are standing at each side of him.

"Leave us." You look at Michonne and she looks back at you. Slowly, you both leave Rick's side and walk towards the door, katana and rifle lowered to the ground. You wait outside with the rest as Rick, Deanna and Paul discuss things. Your eyes lighten at the way Maggie and Glenn stand in front of you, hugging. Glenn just found out he's gonna be a father and you can see the deep joy and relief in his eyes for having made it back alive.

Rick and the others come out time after and your leader walks up to the middle of the community, ready to make his decision known.

"Ok, listen. I know all of us have just made it out of two really big attacks. All of us standing here are survivors. Strong, seasoned survivors. And trust me when I say that this war never ends. In this new world, this new reality, we never stop fighting." He makes a pause. "We have to keep on fighting now. We get a lot more possibilities if we ally ourselves with the Hilltop. It's what we need to do if we wanna survive."

"By getting into another war that'll kill more people?" Heath asks.

"Negan will come to you whether you like it or not. Even if you don't help us. It's only a matter of time before he finds his own way here." Paul comments.

"Yeah. And by the time he gets here we'll all be prepared." Rick continues. "We've faced Wolves and we've faced a horde of walkers that breached our walls. You all fought bravely and we won."

"The cost was high, Rick." Michonne retorts, grimly. "I'm not saying we shouldn't help you, Paul. But maybe we should think this through a little better. What if we're underestimating the enemy?"

"We've fought people like Negan before, Michonne. Outlaws like him always have a weak spot, and we'll hit them right through it."

"Rick… are you sure we should do this?" You ask and the man turns to you with determination.

"Yes. I am. We've all been wondering for a while if this is really a world we want to live in. I know it seems like all hope is lost. Like the horrors outside are too great to waste our time enduring them. But there's a way to come back from all that we've lost. To start living and not just surviving. This is the way. By helping them we help ourselves." Something moves deep inside you at his words. "It's time we come back to life."

He's still looking at you and you meet his gaze, conscious he's talking to you specifically. You nod softly.

"I'm in." Daryl ventures.

"Me too." Says Abraham.

"Yeah, let's do this." Glenn takes Maggie's hand.

The rest of the people agree with determination. You see as Michonne turns around silently, and makes her way out of the group. Rick seems to notice it too, but shows no signs of wanting to follow her.

"Take care of Michonne. I know she's hurting." He asks you later on as you find him resting on the porch of his house, playing with Judith.

"She understands it was the right thing to do." Your leader nods.

"Morgan will be ok. I just don't want him in here. And he didn't want to live here either. He'll make his own way." Yeah, that's something a man like Morgan needs. To find his own path. And Michonne's fine with it, otherwise she would've left with him. She made her choice.

You smile as the little girl lifts her arms towards you and Rick lets you take her. There's something in his eyes as he watches you together. Something you're probably reading wrong, but you'd like to think you aren't. You're conscious of the way your heart beats wildly inside your ribcage at the sight of him.

You've been feeling this way for a while every time he's close to you. Wish you could ignore your stupid, teenage feelings.

"I really liked your speech." You tell him.

"It wasn't a speech." He clarifies. "It's just me being honest." You nod, still looking at him intently. You can see it in him, that spark of hope. Something you also saw in Bob, something you could easily fall in love with. Rick is strength. He's hope. "What's that?" He asks, puzzled by your expression.

"What's what?"

"That look you're giving me."

Your eyes fall to the floor.

"Nothing. Why?" He gets up, in front of you, and lifts your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look at him. There's warmth in those blue eyes of his. "Fist time I met you I thought you were the world's most dangerous basket case, that's all." He smiles at that.

"I hope experience taught you wrong." You shake your head, playful.

"You're still out of your mind most of the time. But I don't know if any of us would be here if it weren't because of you." This time it is Rick the one who looks down. You smile at that. "I might try something here." You venture, feeling strangely lightheaded by your own determination. His eyes meet yours again and you move forward, pressing your lips against the corner of his mouth. You withdraw immediately, taking advantage of his shock to make your escape before he can react to what just happened.

 **Flame**

 _(Warning Sign - Coldplay)_

How could this happen? How did you get it so damn wrong? Why did it have to come to this?

Glenn's dead. He's been killed in the most brutal way as you stood there, unable to do anything while you watched Negan beat your friend with a barb-wired bat until he was nothing but a bloody, unmoving form on the ground, his hand stretched towards his wife in a final attempt to reach her. Michonne was right; you underestimated the enemy and the consequences for that were disastrous. Glenn's blood is on your hands, both literally and figuratively.

"What happened?" Sasha's question is something you cannot answer. Behind her is the group of people she was leading. They made it to the Hilltop without trouble. They have no idea of what horrors awaited them outside.

You take a step forward but Maggie cuts your way. You look at her, her red eyes shot with blood, the tears streaming down her face…

Her hands push you hard.

"This is all your fault!" She screams. Her knuckle connects with your jaw, throwing you back. "This is your fault! THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" She starts punching you and you're unable to react.

"MAGGIE STOP!" Michonne and Paul try to pull her away, but she just wrenches free and lunges towards you again "Maggie!"

Paul takes her by the waist, separating her from you, but she punches him too and Carl is forced to put the revolver against her temple to stop her.

"Get away from my father or I'll pull the trigger." He whispers in a low, inhumane tone. You take a look at your son and his hardened expression ready to shoot a friend in the brains. The notion is too much for you to take in.

 _Oh Carl, what has this world done to you?_

"Maggie?" Sasha shouts as she sees the brunette push through the people and run away. "Maggie?!"

Michonne takes the woman's arm as she starts following her friend.

"Leave her, sister, please! Glenn's dead. Negan killed him."

Michonne's words burn like hot iron. You turn around and start walking away, your face numb by Maggie's punches.

The night turns out to be longer than ever. You wait for it to end as you sit on the couch, the lights turned off and your eyes lost somewhere in space, rewinding back to that awful moment, Maggie's screams and Glenn's hand stretching towards her while he whispered her name with his last breath, Negan's laughter echoing in your ears and his threats spit against your face.

You're going to kill him. You don't know how, you don't know when, but you will. You'll make him suffer before you do. Torture him good, let him see what true brutality is like; how much of a bitch karma is.

 _Like the monster they fear you are._

Your hand clutches strands of your hair, ripping them off. Is this what second chances look like?

As your son woke up from his coma you could see it in his eyes; It was after Morgan had left and maybe if he was still there he would've told you what to do. There was something dark in Carl: his blind rage, his trust betrayed by a boy he thought was his friend, a boy who shot him in the head. And a father who cut his own girlfriend's arm and let the walkers eat her alive. 'Where's mom?' he had asked and you had to explain it to him again. And it was at that moment that you saw every single hint of hope, of humanity, die in his eyes.

Carl's dead. His body may still breathe, but he is dead. And you don't know how to bring him back to life.

Everything you've done for the Hilltop you did it with the hope of making him understand it again; making him realize that life is much more than this nightmare, that there's still a possibility to live and not just survive. And your blind desire to save your son from his own darkness has backfired so horribly.

The door opens and a female figure approaches. At first you think it's Michonne, but then recognize her voice as that of Sasha's. She sits on the couch, next to you, and tries to take your hand, but you pull away from her. That doesn't discourage her.

"Let me see." She pleads putting a hand on your shoulder while the other turns your face around. "She broke your brow." You shake free from her hand again. Wish she could just leave you alone, you don't need her.

"Get out!" You scream after she ignores your efforts to get rid of her.

"No." There's determination in her tone. "Don't push me away." Treacherous tears start streaming down your face. "… Rick…" Her arms fly around you, holding you tight. Her head rests on your shoulder, comforting, as you cry in silence.

"He was there. Negan and his men. They surrounded us. Fifty, maybe more. I couldn't count, it all happened so fast, he pulled Glenn from the group and then… and then he was hitting… and there was nothing I could do… He smashed his brains on the street, Sasha. It was… He was… Oh, god…" She holds you tight and you break down in her arms. Your face is hidden in the crook of her neck and her skin feels too warm and good. Her body in your arms feels right as you press her against you. You pull away and her hands stroke your jaw, her eyes looking deep into yours. For a second, you feel yourself leaning closer to her. But then an impulse makes you pull away. You get off the couch, putting as much distance between you two as possible. "We have to let Dwight go. Let everyone go."

Her eyes widen in shock.

"What?" You turn away with shame. "After what he did?! After he killed Abraham?! Rick, no. No! We need to execute Dwight! Show that asshole that he cannot control us!"

"He'll keep on killing us one by one if I do that. This was my fault. Glenn died because I took Negan for granted."

"You stop blaming yourself every time one of us dies! We all took Negan for granted, none of us predicted this would happen! It is not your fault!" Yes, it is. Michonne told you this was a bad idea and you ignored her, focused on getting rid of the threat as fast as possible. "And Rick, I was on the road too! Had they got me and my group the same shit would've happened!"

"But they didn't! You lead them to safety, you were careful! I agreed to stop in the middle of the road, convinced that we had exterminated the danger! I was stupid! And this mistake is something I cannot undo! I can't… win this fight."

"Of course you can. Don't lose hope, please. We need to take Negan down. We need to kill Dwight."

"We are not gonna do that."

"So you're just gonna let him go and fall in line behind that sociopath…?!"

"Enough, Sasha!" She stands next to you, her fists clutched in tight fists.

"Rick, this isn't you! I know it! You're the one who said we have to protect this people! The one who talked about living and not just surviving!" She forces you to look at her. "Rick… I'm still with you. Daryl, Rosita, Carol, Michonne… we're with you. Always. You're our leader. We're a family. We've pulled out of everything together and we'll get out of this too! I know you have it in you to do this right. To finish Negan. I know it…" Her words are muffled by your lips on hers. You feel them, warm and soft against yours and her entire body paralyzes making you stop yourself, pull away and look into her wide eyes. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You disentangle your hand from her hair - how the hell did it even get there? - and jump away as if struck by lightning.

"Hold on..." She asks, still taken aback by what just happened.

"I… I'm sorry." You mumble, trying to shake off her grasp. "I should't have done that, I can't think straight…" This time it is her kiss the one that shuts you up. You open your mouth instinctively, tangling your tongue with hers. Her body presses against yours, her hands messing up your hair. You pull away, sucking on her lower lip, your eyes firmly shut.

"One more…" She whispers against your lips and you comply, kissing her possessively. For a second it all seems so perfect… but then reality comes back biting and you pull away, forcefully, wrenching free from her hold.

"No." You shake your head, refusing to go further. "No, I can't… Everyone I love dies."

Jessie and Lori died and there was nothing you could do to save them. You don't want to fall in love again and lose another woman in your life. You cannot let that happen.

"Rick, don't do this." She pleads. "Don't push me away." Her insistence is so lovely… "Rick, I won't die! I haven't died! Look at me!" Her eyes meet yours and she holds you in place. "You and me, we'll make it till the end. We won't die."

Your arms fly around her and press her against your body and she corresponds your hug. You wish you could stretch this moment to last forever, wish it was as simple as she thinks it is. Minutes pass and you pull away once more, pressing your lips against her forehead before walking away. She doesn't follow you this time.

 **-o-**

You're here again, by your own, sitting on the ground and looking at Bob's vest propped over your rifle, hoping it was hanging from the shoulders of the man you loved.

A man you loved and lost, just like Rick lost the women in his life.

"Baby?" you whisper. "Why did you leave?" the vest doesn't give you any answer, but inside your head you like to think Bob's smiling back at you. "Please… answer me… There are so many doubts inside me… I just wanna know what direction you want me to take."

 _What direction do you wanna take?_ Bob asks you.

You lift your gaze towards his vest, wanting it to be real and not just a product of your imagination.

"I don't know. I never knew." you look down, your fists ripping the grass on the ground. "I'm still here because you would've wanted me to. Because you died and I couldn't stop that and I realized I have to protect… I have to keep these people alive."

 _Keep Rick alive._

You close your eyes, trying to contain the tears from streaming down your face.

"I'm so sorry, love. I know I should respect your memory… I didn't want to feel this way, it just happened. Even before tonight… I knew I felt something for him."

 _Yes. So what's wrong with that?_

"I don't know."

 _I want you to be happy, baby girl. Come on, smile for me._

You look up and shake your head at your own craziness, and a wide smile grazes your lips. You can see Bob returning it on his death-bed.

 _You were a firefighter once. You tamed the flames to rescue people. Heroes like Rick will fall into the fire of their own madness and it is up to you to rescue them._

 _I loved you so much._

 _But it's time to let go of your past._

 _Find your answer alone; for yourself, not for me._

 _You can do it._

A solitary tear streams down your face and you clean it with the back of your hand. You step up and take Bob's vest in your hand, and kiss it goodbye.

"I loved you, baby. I will always love you." You take the lighter out and set the cloth aflame, before throwing it inside a metallic bin a few steps away from where you were sitting.

The fire rises high for a few moments before dissipating, leaving what's left of Bob's vest. A mess of dark ash.


	3. Leader, Paramour, Beloved

_A/N: I'm mixing up the scenes from the comic, so things are not gonna happen in the exact same chronological order._

 _So, all of a sudden Abraham decides he likes Sasha and I was like "Dafuq?" Would be weird to me if they became canon, but then again, I know nothing. They may be as cute as Bob and Sasha. It would've been a great idea for this story to add some sort of conflict with Abraham, but I already wrote it before I saw this episode. Anyhow, seems like Sasha is getting better, which is what I predicted too. Hope you're enjoying this. It may never happen, but in my head, it's an interesting thing to imagine._

 _Also, great casting for Negan, can't wait to see Jeffrey in character._

* * *

 **Leader**

 _(If Everyone Cared - Nickelback)_

People from the Kingdom definitely know how to make a grand entrance. After Alexandria was bombarded and you were forced to take refuge in the Hilltop it seems Ezekiel has finally agreed to help you. Or maybe it's because someone else convinced him. You don't really know.

The man and his people are the definition of unusual. What with him carrying that giant tiger around and calling himself king. Still, he inspires a lot of respect and is a powerful ally. As the king makes his way into the Hilltop he not only brings at least a thousand people with him, but also carts full of supplies and ammunition. You look at Michonne and she smiles back at you.

"You think this is enough to defeat Negan?"

"I think we got a pretty good shot now."

"Yeah. Me too." she puts a hand on your shoulder, her smile open and fearless at last.

"It's good to see that you trust me again."

"I've always trusted you. I just… prefer it when you live up to your potential, instead of just settling down for the easy route."

"The easy route?" There are no easy routes in this world anymore.

"Of letting this world change who you are instead of doing the right thing. I've always known you have it in you to be a great leader. You're proving me right now." You correspond her smile, a warm feeling settling inside your chest. The time and circumstances that separated the both of you have created some sort of breach. What could have happened and didn't with your relationship seems to be a far away dream now. You still love her with all your heart, like you love Carl, but it slowly dawns on you that you no longer want her in the same way you did. And maybe it is better this way. "Come on, let's go eat. I'm starving." She presses on, elbowing you in the ribs. You respond with a laugh.

You sit in between Carl and Michonne. Everyone in your group is hungry, but certainly unaccustomed to get such big rations. Seated a meter away from you are Sasha and Spencer and they seem quite busy with their conversation. You narrow your eyes at the boy, who's slyly sneaking an arm behind Sasha's back. One of these days you're seriously gonna break his nose for hitting on her so hard.

Especially now.

Distracted by those two as you are it takes you a while to notice Michonne's stare fixed on you. Once you meet her eyes she flashes you that mocking smile.

"What?" You ask with contempt.

"Nothing." she scoffs 'jealous much' under her breath and turns her attention to her plate. You kick her under the table and she chokes on her food in an effort to dissimulate her laugh. Spencer and Sasha turn their heads towards her and you pat her back lightly while she takes a big sip of water.

"They really have this much food? I didn't expect to get so much on my plate." you comment as a means to create a distraction. Carl, who's been very quiet until now, is the first to respond.

"I think they might have given you a bit extra. They were rationing things before we arrived."

"People from the Kingdom brought a lot of supplies with them. We should be okay here." Tara says.

"Well, that's good. Cause we might be here for a while." The group revert back to their own conversations. You throw a dissimulated look towards Sasha and find her looking in your direction, for which you gaze away.

Since that faithful night in which you kissed her neither of you has confronted the other. Deep inside you held onto the hope she would keep on insisting, but she didn't. She also seems to have grown closer to Spencer and you don't know if she does it to drive you jealous or to get over your rejection. If only she understood how hard it is for you to dare yourself to start something with her now… maybe she does and that's why she's pulling away. But that's not what you want either.

You're behaving like a goddamn woman; wanting and not wanting something at the same time.

Michonne snickers next to you and you turn to look at her again.

"What?"

"Nothing!" 'pussy' she scoffs under her breath. Your foot kicks her again and she starts laughing hysterically, causing everyone in the table to turn towards her. She camouflages it with a cough and Carol leans over, interrupting her conversation with Daryl.

"You feel alright? Maybe Denise should check you."

"Yes, Chonne, maybe Denise should _check_ you." You comment.

"I'm fine, thanks."

 **-o-**

It appears Ezekiel seems quite bent on flirting with every female in your group. After having tried with Michonne and gotten a hostile response from her part he's moved onto Carol, who seems less than thrilled by it.

"Can ya go rescue her from him?" Daryl pleads more than asks, eyeing the two of them with distrust.

"Why don't you go? It's your chick, not mine." He throws you a murderous look.

"She ain' ma _chick_. No more than Rick's yer man." You purse your lips at that.

"Asshole." He snickers.

"Ya ain' foolin' no one, sista."

"What is it with all of you treating me like I'm your younger sibling?" He shrugs.

"Woulda liked ta have a sista like ya, tha's all." You turn to him with a smile. He gives you a knowing look: His charm has won you over.

"Goddamn, Dixon. Ok, wait here." You make your way towards them and Carol sighs with relief as she sees you approach. "Your boyfriend misses you."

"Who?" the woman whispers but one look from your eyes tells her to go with it. "Oh. Excuse me." She says to Ezekiel before making her way towards Daryl.

"He's her boyfriend? I didn't know."

"Would you stop flirting with them?" The man turns to you with a benevolent smile.

"Sorry. Don't mean to offend, I just find women charming and beautiful. It ain't nothing wrong with enjoying the fleeting pleasures of this world whenever they present themselves to you, am I right? After all, I may be dead tomorrow."

"You are one of those talkers, aren't you?" He laughs at your observation.

"And you're one stone that's hard to break. Are you the one whose boyfriend died? Or the black widow they told me about?" You turn to him in shock, but he shrugs like he doesn't care. "Now that you chose to be blatantly honest and defensive with me I figured I should do the same."

He's got a point there. You sigh and shake your head.

"Maggie." You explain to him. "She lost her husband. Francine's boyfriend, Abraham, also died."

"You've all been through a lot, haven't you? Poor people. And what's _your_ story, pretty girl?" You give him a hard look. "Easy. Just wanna get to know you. I'll keep my distance if you want. Better?" He asks, taking a step back. "You know, with such beautiful women around him, I'm surprised your leader's still single. I mean at first I thought you two were an item, given the way you look at each other, but… you're not. Are you? Just saying…"

"Sasha…" You turn around to find your leader approaching. Speak of the devil.

"What up, Rick?" Ezekiel greets him. He eyes him up and down.

"Everything ok?"

"Just… enjoying the sight." The old man comments with a clear double meaning. "You got a… there." He swats something around your shoulder and his hand grazes your skin. "Mosquitos, right? They came with the fruit. Nothing to be worried about, but… gotta be careful with that pretty skin of yours."

Rick takes a step towards you and puts his hand on the small of your back protectively. Goosebumps travel down your spine at his touch. It's been a while since you two've been so close and memories of the night you kissed come back in full force.

"Sasha, watch-duty." He demands, his voice a little on edge, and you don't wait too long to heed his order.

 **-o-**

What is it about Sasha that makes men swarm around her like flies?

You should be the one to come up with an answer, since you're one of them.

"You here to keep me company?" She asks as you sit next to her on the watch-post. Here you two are again, just as close and as far as before.

"Ezekiel hitting on you too?" You ask and something in your tone gives your jealousy away, cause she laughs silently.

"I think he's more interested in Michonne now." Yeah, you know. He seems bent on getting the woman into conversations all the time. It seems she's also very interested in what he has to say, which surprises you. You know she's still in love with Morgan. It would be weird if she happened to fall for Ezekiel's antics when her flame is still alive somewhere. She's not that kind of woman.

"He won't nail her."

"Who knows? He's a talker. Women love talkers."

"Do you love talkers?" She smiles at that.

"Maybe?"

"Talkers like Spencer getting to you?"

"No way." Pause. "Why you care?" You don't respond to that, instead taking her hand in yours. She shakes a little at that. It's been a while since you've dared to come this close to her. Must be your increasing jealousy getting the best of you. You don't want to see her fall into the arms of another man, you already made that mistake once. You've reflected on your choices concerning her and don't have a clear idea of what you want yet. The ways in which you could love her plague your mind every sleepless night. Whenever you rest alone in the dark you start thinking of her, remembering her scent and her flavor and imagining a lot more that you would like to discover within her. Deep inside you know you only want her, but fear is a powerful demon to fight, especially now that you stand so much to lose. But maybe if you two take it slow and figure things out at your own time you can give it a chance. "I heard what you said today. 'Bout us staying? We might be here for good, right?"

"No, I don't think so. We'll take down Negan and rebuild our community. Get it back in working order. We'll go home; it's good to have our own place." The way in which she looks at you amuses you. There's a smile playing in her lips and a glow in her eyes. The exact same look she gave you once, when you two were talking on the porch and she kissed you in the most casual way possible. "Okay. What… what's that look of yours mean? You don't believe me?"

The smile she gives you is so charming you have to contain yourself from kissing her. Hell knows how much you want to...

"I… It's not that, it's your optimism. I find it reassuring. It's good to see your confidence turned up to eleven." Yeah, surely her sceptic self is the greatest fan of optimism.

"You may think I'm crazy, Sasha…"

"We've been past that already." You laugh at that.

"Yeah." The silence lingers between you for a few moments before you speak again. "Look around you. What do you see?" You wait for her answer, but it doesn't come. "A community; hope. I just have to take a look at the world in front of me… At these people, this life… And know that there's an answer out there."

"An answer for what?"

"Your question. Whatever it is."

She turns to look at you.

"Maybe."

"Positively. We don't die. We're the ones who get to live. Always. There must be a reason for that, right? This is the reason. We don't live to just survive. Hide away, kill without a reason, lose ourselves further down… We live to fight another day, to protect, to go back home to our children and make things right. We live for another shot. That's why we gotta stay alive." Your hold on her hand tightens. "So don't die in this war, Sasha."

She lays her head against your shoulder, a serene look in her eyes as she takes on the scenery in front of her.

"I won't."

You stay with her while her shift lasts, talking about trivial stuff. Your past before the apocalypse, your dreams, the doubts and fears that rose and changed you when the end of the world started. It's more than just a resemblance, it's a connection between you two that you were never aware of. She was a firefighter, you were a sheriff. She was a sister, you were a husband. She was always the realist, you were always the one in charge. At a strange level you two've been living similar lives, embracing similar values, suffering similar losses, falling into similar pits and coming back up in similar ways.

"What happened to Bob's vest?" You note.

"I don't need it anymore." You look at her inquisitively. "I have him in my heart. Always. But I won't let the past define me. I don't have to hold onto his ghost, just his memory." You smile at that and steal a quick kiss from her lips, relishing in the soft blush that covers her face. "What was that for?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie." She scrutinizes you as you evade her gaze. "What?"

"You were there when I needed you the most. When everyone doubted me, when everyone was gone… in my darkest, most doubtful moments… you were there." She nods, silent. "It's been this way for a while, hasn't it? You and me, always together, always having each other's backs." Her forehead presses against yours. "Maybe this is about us too; not about the past, or our ghosts, or the future. But us."

"There's no reason to run from that."

"No. There's no reason to rush it either." She nods in understanding.

"We won't die, right?"

"We won't die."

 **Paramour**

 _(Hungry - Dotan)_

You watch her barge through the door, her rifle still strapped to her chest and a wild look in her eyes. You suppose she wants to talk about the mistake she made today and apologize for her precipitation. She almost kills Carson out there.

"Before you start, I want you to know it was also my fault. I should've told you about Dwight's plan to free Eugene. You were on your right to panic."

"I should've waited on your orders."

"That's true too. Guess we're both to blame for this one." The woman passes a hand through her hair, closing her eyes with relief.

"I didn't know Dwight was on our side." You nod at that. She's repeating herself.

"Told you I had this figured out."

"I realized. T'was a good plan."

"Yeah." She nods and takes an awkward step back, fidgeting with her hands as if she wanted to say more. You gulp, your blood rushing inside your veins. Holy fuck. You don't want her running off in panic. "Sasha…" She meets your gaze with eyes wide as plates. "I'm glad you're still here."

There's an awkward silence between you after that.

"I told you I wouldn't die." She ventures.

"You were right." You take a step towards her and she understands what you mean. The silence stretches as you wait for her to weigh her choices.

"So…" She starts, and you can see it takes all her courage to outer the next words. "You still feel dead inside?"

"Why you ask?"

She gulps and after a couple seconds of uncertainty her hands fly to the strap of her rifle, pulling it over her head and leaving it on a table nearby.

"Don't you think it's time you came back to life? That we… came back to life?"

Your chest heaves at that. Your feet move on their own accord before your conscience can catch the order and in a few steps you've eliminated the distance between both. Your hand loses itself in her curly hair, messing her flawless french braid; your face inches closer, but it is her the one who ends up pressing her lips against yours. They taste like fresh blood and honey. The sweet flavor you remember well, mixed with a violent tip of war and pain; and it turns you on.

Without a single hint of coyness she swings her arms around your neck and jumps up, her strong legs straddling your hips. The lash makes you hit the wall behind you and your arms hold her up, your hand on her butt to prevent her from falling. As she leans over to kiss your neck you realize this is why she's no longer wearing Bob's vest: she's leaving her past behind and jumping into a new future. A future she wants to share with you.

And you want the same. It is time.

You turn to press her back to the wall, kissing her sweetly at first and gradually harder until your teeth start dipping into her tender flesh. She sucks the air in and you gotta hold back the impulse to rip her clothes off right in that second and fuck her hard against the wall. That would certainly be awkward if your son happened to come through that door. There's still a bedroom waiting for you though. With her in your arms you step back, careful not to hit anything. She holds onto your neck with a thrilling look in those dark eyes as you transport her across the apartment towards your destination, closing the door behind you.

You sit on the edge of the bed with her still straddling your hips and pull from her shirt, wanting it gone. She complies, pulling it over her head and throwing it on the floor and kisses you softly, trailing her fingers down your chest and licking every inch of your neck while she pushes you down onto the bed. She's not like Lori or Jessie; she's a survivor like you. Just as dangerous, upfront, wild and yet, in a way, sweeter than any other.

You press each other against the mattress, playing with power and dominance, ripping your clothes off, kissing, marking and bruising each other. Less like humans, you think; more like felines in heat.

She's a silent panther. Her body gives signals of pleasure, but her moans and gasps are extremely quiet. You kiss and bite each of her nipples until they are erect and hypersensitive in an effort to elicit louder sounds from her, but it's only once you dip your tongue between her folds that she starts losing grip. For such a control-freak that must be the real nightmare. You taste her saltiness until her orgasm explodes inside your mouth, driving you mental. She's delicious.

You come up to kiss her, still fucking her with your fingers, and her hand closes around your shaft, stroking it just as hard.

"Want me to return the favor?" She asks, still breathless. You think about it, but then feel her clench around your fingers and better ideas cross your mind.

"No, I want to fuck you." You retrieve your fingers and lick her entrance a couple times, making sure she's wet enough, before guiding yourself inside her heat. She clutches your arms at the sensation, but her face doesn't show signs of pain, and as you start to move within her she follows your rhythm, letting you set the pace. She's sort of a submissive, you realize. A feisty submissive who demands a fight before giving in. The combination is so damn perfect and it suits her so much.

Why is it that you're only now discovering this woman when she's been there by your side for so long? She's so perfect for you.

The way in which her hips arch against you is so glorious you worry she might finish you off before herself. With your fingers you start pinching her left nipple, eliciting the loudest moans you've heard from her while your lips suck hard on her neck. She comes a second time and you almost come with her, before realizing you didn't use condoms and cursing yourself for that. You hold on for a couple minutes, letting her ride her orgasm off, before feeling your balls tighten and drawing back just in time, spilling out of her.

You lie back against the mattress, panting. Next to you she trembles, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she enjoys the aftermath of her orgasm. It's been a while since she's had one, you realize.

 **-o-**

Your legs feel numb and tingly and the sensation allover your body prevents you from moving. You hope it lasts at least five minutes, wanna remember it.

"You ok?" He asks, his eyes fixed on the way your body seems to have reacted to him. You can tell he knows you haven't gotten laid in a long time. Not that he could blame you.

"Better than ok." You answer after a second.

His ego must be the size of Texas right now. Not that an alpha-male like him needs it. You're pretty sure Jessie was just as appreciative of his attentions. Maybe even better at this than you, since she had, after all, been with her husband after the world went to hell.

"You're quieter than I'm used to." You snort at his comment and throw him one of your 'seriously?' looks. "It's true."

"Hmmm." The sensation still travels across your body and you try to enjoy it as much as possible, as it is something you haven't felt in a while. "I'm a little rusty too. After the world went to hell, I never…" The phrase finishes itself.

"Really? No Bob?"

"No privacy." He looks you up and down and you can tell he's not quite done. He leans over to kiss you and takes your hand in his, looking at the contrast of your dark skin against his. His blue eyes connect with yours again and you feel them bore into your soul. A sudden panic attack strikes.

There's no turning back from this. You purposely didn't weigh the consequences of your actions as you came through that door. You knew if you did you would stop yourself and it was something you couldn't allow. Not with him, at least.

Right now, however, after all is set and done, those doubts come crawling in again. You know exactly the way you feel. You discussed it with Bob's ghost, even apologized to him for having had a crush on Rick all this time. But when it comes to him… you're pretty sure he doesn't feel the same.

You know about his crush on Michonne. He's probably hurting after her rejection and you remind him of her. Did he whisper your name as he came? Or was it hers? You don't remember.

"What's wrong?" You turn away, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

"Nothing." You lie. Too late to turn back now, you think. Even if he doesn't love you like you do, he needs you. And you need him. For a time, this is what both of you need to feel alive again. His hand touches your still sensitive skin, making goosebumps crawl down your spine. You feel his hungry gaze taking you in, he's insatiable.

"Maybe if we try it again you'll get louder… hmm?" His fingers stroke down there and you jump at the contact, wincing slightly.

"Not yet. Let me catch a break…"

"I'm sorry." He kisses you, drawing you closer to him and cradling you in his arms. You tangle your fingers in his hair, preventing him from moving away. "One more?"

"One more."

As he moves his lips against yours again you hear the door open so suddenly it doesn't register.

"Old man, where are y…?! Oh…" Rick jumps off you immediately as the light bursts into the room, revealing the silhouette of a young boy.

"CARL!"

"Oh god!" You scream instinctively. Your hands grab the blanket, covering your body with it.

"Didn't you learn to knock first?!"

The light behind him doesn't allow you to see his face, but you can sense his confusion and his eye firmly set on you.

"I didn't think there was a need." He answers in a mocking tone. "Should've told me you were getting it on with dead shot here. Nice boobs, by the way."

"CARL!" Rick screams in disbelief.

"Stay put, lovebirds."

"Come back here!" He jumps off the bed giving you the most wonderful sight of his ass. If it weren't for the awkwardness of the situation you would enjoy it a little more. He puts his pants on and runs after his son, leaving you alone in the room.

You fall back on the bed, your face squished against the pillow, not sure if you should feel amused or mortified by what just happened.

 **-o-**

She's wearing your shirt.

And holding Judith in her arms as her naked legs walk back and forth and her lips mutter a soft lullaby.

And she's got her hair down.

Why is this sight so damn mesmerizing? You could fall in love allover again just from seeing her like this. She stops dead in her tracks as she notices you there, leaning against the wall, watching her with a stupid smile on your face. Her blush is priceless.

"Sorry for the attire. Carl volunteered to bring me clean clothes before I go back on watch-duty today."

"It's ok. You can keep my shirt if you want to." She smiles at that.

"I don't."

"Not your style?" She shakes her head. "But Bob's vest certainly was, eh?"

"Rick." You laugh, silently, and keep on watching as she lulls your daughter to sleep. The first rays of sunlight start creeping through the windows and you grimace at the upcoming day. You got an entire war to plan and not so much time before Negan attacks again. "You still got a few more hours to sleep, go back to bed."

The way she bosses you around is certainly amusing.

"Why are you awake?"

"I usually have trouble sleeping."

"Really?" She flashes you a smile, Judith almost entirely asleep in her arms now.

"Go back to bed." She whispers. You walk towards her and pass your hand through her hair, pushing it away from her nape so you can kiss her there. She trembles at the feel of your touch and moves out of reach, confusing you. There's something in the way she walks away, like she was afraid of your kisses. Quite unfair, seen as last night she couldn't get enough of them.

"Will you come join me for a while?"

"Can't. Gotta get ready."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Sasha." She turns towards you and you stare hard into her eyes, demanding an explanation. No longer the lover, but the leader. She gulps.

"Last night meant something to me." She explains.

"Me too."

"Yeah… just, maybe not in the same way."

"What?" She shakes her head, waving it off.

"It really is nothing. I just need to come clear with what's going on here, that's all." You narrow your eyes at that. You thought what was going on here was clear enough already.

Though, maybe you misread her. Getting over Bob must be one of her priorities now, not getting to love you. Right? Maybe she just needs you for now and in time she will get tired of your drama and your instability. You grit your teeth as the thought crosses your mind. You don't have time to deal with this right now. Too many fucking things in your to-do list already. After the war is over, however, you'll clear things up. If she doesn't want to establish a relationship you don't think you have the heart to enter a non-serious sexual arrangement. You're not that kind of man.

"Fine. You can take a shower before leaving, if you want to." You comment, retiring towards the bedroom again. Something in your cold tone must give you away, cause you feel her eyes nailed onto your back as you walk.

 **-o-**

Trembles of fear and insecurity travel down your spine at the way he makes your body shake to its core. He's a feral lover; or maybe that's what he became after this world went to shit. Dominance irradiates from him and his possessiveness shows in every mark he leaves on your body. Marks that'll stay there for weeks and you won't be able to explain to anyone.

You tremble at the way you like it.

You've never had a man like this. The men you used to date were tame, sweet guys like Bob. You never understood that impulse some women had of falling for aggressive heartbreakers or dangerous bad boys.

Now you do. Kind of.

There's a vicious satisfaction to the fact that you managed to catch the desire of this alpha-male. A sweet and glorious feeling of fulfillment every time you see him climax on top or underneath you. For just a second, at least, you feel like his alpha-female. His woman; which you know you are not.

He's not yours. He may be sharing his bed with you now because of heartbreak. Because he needs a woman and he's lost the ones he cared about and you're the next one closest to him; the only one who hasn't abandoned him and is not yet taken.

He would prefer Michonne to you; you know it. Sometimes you swear you hear him whisper her name, but it may as well be just a product of your paranoia. Sometimes you could also swear you see something else in his eyes. Usually after sex; when he holds you firmly against him, cradling the both of you into restless sleep. That look he gives you is strange. Is it hope what you read in it? Gratitude? Love?

It makes you uncomfortable when he looks at you that way. Makes a wall rise deep inside you; a wall you had already built up as a teenager when boys tried to play with your heart. You know you cannot get your hopes up; it would be stupid.

Soon the war will take him; soon Michonne will reclaim him; soon he will get tired of you. And when any of that happens you won't fall to your knees and beg him not to leave you. You'll have to stand with your head high and accept the situation. And not break yourself again by latching onto him like you did with your brother and Bob.

The sounds of his pleasure are always so enjoyable. You press your hand against his belly and his tight grasp on your hair loosens a bit, for which you're grateful. Nearing the end, he thrusts hard into your throat and his seed comes out. You swallow it all. Fellatio is something you've surprisingly gotten better at; after the amount of disgusting things you've had to eat your gag reflex is now completely gone. You clean your mouth with the back of your hand and come back up to kiss his chest.

He falls against the bed, breathing hard, and pulls you down with him so that your bare chest is pressing against his.

"Want some more?" You ask.

"No. You've worn me out."

"Good." Your fingers run through his hair, appeasing him. "Relax."

Today's the day you go to war. You still had a few hours to sleep after you woke up, but falling into slumber again is close to impossible. The phantom of death hangs high above your heads, and the only way to ignore it is by indulging in each other. It's easier to do it when he's by your side.

 _We won't die, we won't die._

He turns to look at you and kisses you.

"More. Much more." You plead as he pulls away. He obliges.

 **Beloved**

 _(Try - Nelly Furtado)_

There's a deep wound crossing your face from your ear to the side of your left cheek. You vaguely remember the knife as it slashed your flesh, right before you pushed the Savior off the tower so that he would fall to his death. After that you lost consciousness only to wake up in the nursery to Denise patching you up and Morgan and Heath hovering over you with worried faces. Yes, Morgan's come back. He apparently found Ezekiel and the sea before all this shit started. Maybe he was the one who convinced the King to fight this war, you don't know, but you're pretty sure Rick will forgive him after all the help he probably lend in this battle.

"You took a pretty hard beating up there."

"I'll be fine." You tell Morgan who's helping you stand up. "Rick doing ok?"

"He was hit by an arrow on his side." It feels as if someone has punched you in the gut allover again.

"From the Saviors?" You ask in horror. They are known to embalm their weapons with walker's guts so that the victim will die regardless.

"It's ok, Sasha. I checked him." Denise intervenes. "The arrow was clean."

"How is that possible?!"

"Maybe Dwight forgot to embalm it, I don't know. We should still keep an eye on him, but otherwise, he's fine." Dwight. Right, he's on Rick's side, isn't he?

"Where is he?"

"Resting. He also asked about you a thousand times." Morgan notes. Heath, who seems constantly glued to Denise's feet nowadays -he fancies her like mad- narrows his eyes at that.

"So there _is_ something going on between you. I knew all those times you were alone at the watch-post were suspicious." He ignores your look of contempt and pats Morgan lightly on the back. "You leave for two months and all of a sudden everyone starts making out."

 **-o-**

He's sleeping on the couch, probably too tired to have made it to his bed. His side is wrapped in bloody bandages and the sight triggers an unwanted memory of Bob on his dead bed. Shaking it off, you walk towards the sofa and sit next to Rick. Every move you make is torture and you feel like you've been hit by a truck. As you put a hand on Rick's chest his eyes open and his stump flies right to your arm, holding it in place. You smile at that; it's just like the first time you visited him while he was out.

"Hey…"

"Sasha…" You put a hand on his forehead and dread washes allover you again as you feel it warm. Oh, god, no. He can't be infected again.

"Are you sure you're feeling well? You feel hot to me…"

"Dad's ok." Carl's voice answers harshly from behind you. "Got it?"

You didn't notice him coming down the stairs. You turn to him and nod, apologetic. You've been trying to work this awkwardness away every time he sees you in the house. As Carl walks his way into the kitchen you feel Rick's hand caress your jaw and turn your face towards his. His finger follows the contour of your wound. Your lower lip and forehead have cuts too, but the one on your cheek is deep and is gonna leave a scar for life.

"Look at you… Your pretty face…" He tries to prop himself up to kiss you, but the move makes him moan in pain.

"Careful!" You push him down again and lean over him, careful not to put your weight on his torso. He kisses your mouth and then the side of your scar lovingly. "You sure you're not feeling sick?"

"I'm ok, baby."

Your lips kiss his fingers as he caresses your face in silence.

"I thought you weren't gonna make it."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because that arrow should've been infected. You know that."

"You were scared."

"Of course I was, don't be foolish."

"I'm ok now. Ain't I?" He catches the fear in your eyes and you shy away. "Sasha, look at me."

"Rick…"

"Look at me and say it." Your gaze meets his and you obey.

"We won't die." You repeat, trying to convince yourself for the fifth time.

"Exactly." He kisses you once more and sucks on the cut of your lower lip before withdrawing, tentative. "That hurt?"

"No."

"Good." His lips meet yours again. "Cm'ere."

"Take it easy…"

"I will. Come here." Carefully, you climb over until you're squished between him and the sofa. He swings his good arm around you and presses you flush against his body and you snuggle in his embrace. "Will you stay tonight?"

"Yes." You'll stay with him forever if that's what he wants from you.

"Ahem…" Carl clearing his throat breaks the tenderness of the moment. Both of you lift your heads to the boy standing in the middle of the living room. Rick's body tenses immediately and you sense his insecurity. Carl never comments on the relationship between you and his father, so it's kinda hard to understand how he feels about it. Maybe he hates you being here. You swallow hard and start moving away. "Don't… you look cute spooning like that." Carl's comment confuses the both of you, but the boy seems not to mind. "Just wait till I'm asleep to take your clothes off… otherwise I hear everything."

"Carl." Rick's tone is severe. This boy definitely has some bold sense of humor.

"Sorry for being honest."

You share an amused look with his father before propping yourself off the couch and looking at Carl with a sharp eye.

"That eye of yours feeling good?" He sighs and shakes his head, clutching the ice bag in his hand. He also seems to have had it rough out there. "Figured as much, you talk bullshit whenever you're in pain."

"You don't know that!"

"Of course I do." You put a hand on his shoulder and guide him towards the kitchen. "Come on, I'll make you a tea and you go straight to bed."

"Your teas suck." Your hand gives his ear a pull. "Ouch!"

"Serves you right!" Rick shouts at your back.

 **-o-**

You open your eyes and the first thing you see is her sitting above you, keeping a sharp eye outside while her arms hold onto her long-shot rifle. You lift your head from her leg and she turns to look at you, flashing you a tired smile.

"You ok, love?"

"Hmm." You nod, kissing her naked shoulder. "You?" She grimaces and you realize she still has trouble falling asleep. You don't know why that is. Is it her nightmares? Worries? Something else? She won't tell you. "You need some rest, baby. You look so tired."

"You shouldn't worry about me."

"I do, though." She gives you that look that unnerves you sometimes. Strong, independent woman complaining about your overprotectiveness. Hell knows Sasha will die before asking for help, that doesn't mean she doesn't need it.

"Ok." She says, giving in. You take her rifle from her and open your arms while she snuggles against your chest and closes her eyes in an effort to sleep. Fifteen minutes pass and she sighs, moving away from you and shaking her head. You watch as she stretches her neck, stands up and walks towards the wall on the other side. "We need to talk." She turns towards you.

"About?" You frown.

"You. Me. Us." Your look is stern. "I was going to wait until the war was over but… I feel that by then it'll be too late." She fidgets with her fingers, not sure of how to start. If she's looking to soften the blow for you that is something you won't take.

"I'm not the kind of man who just kisses and makes love." You say, cutting her out. She widens, her eyes firmly set on yours.

"Is love what we make?"

"It is to me. Is it to you?" You stand up and walk to her. She throws a look towards the window, but you don't care about your watch right now. Spencer should be on his post too and he's a big boy. "I'm a man of absolutes, Sasha. I don't want to fuck you, I want to make love to you. I don't want to just kiss you, I want to love you. I want it all. With you. Do you want the same?"

She bites her lip in the most erotic way possible and you cannot resist the urge to push her against the wall and sink your teeth into it, chewing it as you've done with other several parts of her body. She pulls away, passing her tongue through the recent wound, a mix of excitement and annoyance in her dark eyes.

"You're not a wolf, so stop marking your territory." She mumbles. You tilt your head to the side expecting her answer, but she doesn't give it. She just stares back blankly.

"My territory… Is that how we'll call it from now on?"

"No. It sounds extremely misogynistic." You nod at that. She's a woman, not someone's property. Still, that feeling of possessiveness itches inside you. You wish you could call her something of yours. Your girlfriend, your woman. Would she like to be called yours?

Sasha is one of those women you cannot read and it frustrates as much as attracts you. You don't know what her intentions are with you; why she's gotten herself into this. You think she cares about you. It shows in her loyalty, in the way she treats you and the look she gives you every time you make her reach the clouds and push her emotional barriers down. It doesn't show in her words.

"Sooner or later we'll have to put a name on this… whatever it is."

"And what do you think it is?"

"You're giving me the task of defining it?"

"You're the one who wants to define it." She whispers as you start trailing kisses down her neck. "I'm fine with 'whatever it is'." You turn to her, resigned.

"For now."

She kisses you apologetic and you sneak your hand under her shirt, massaging her left breast. She gasps and tries to move away, but you press her hard against the wall, your knee in between her legs, rubbing against her above her pants. She opens her mouth in a silent moan and throws her head back, giving you access to her neck.

"We can't." She starts. "First watch is not to be fucked with." You chuckle against her skin and press your knee harder against her, making her yelp lightly.

"You say it's not to be fucked with. I say… I'll fuck you whenever I want." You leave her neck for just a second to concentrate on her face as she starts riding your leg without even realizing it. "And I've wanted to fuck you hard against a wall for quite some time."

Her pupils dilate with desire and the treacherous action gives her away. You sneak your hand under her pants and panties, fingering her. She's dripping wet. You fumble with the button, opening it and pulling them down.

"Rick, you're crazy!" You struggle with your own belt and pants before lifting her against the wall, ignoring her. She holds onto you with wanton in her face, showing that she doesn't care about it either. The wood against her back creeks as you slam into her, drowning her soft cry. She's still a little too quiet and you're constantly on a race to see how you can get her to scream. One day you'll nail it.

"Hhhmmmm." She clenches around you and you keep pounding hard inside her. The friction of your bodies is rubbing her the right way. She seems to like it rough. And you like the way she surrenders her body to your control. Your legs feel shaky, but you don't stop.

"Oh god..." She moans against your ear when you intensify the rhythm. "Oh god!" She's nearing the end. One hard thrust and she's coming undone against you, that long awaited scream coming out of her lips. "Riiick… oh!" You laugh between breaths, heaving with exertion as you thrust into her faster, searching for your release. She comes again, louder this time, and her orgasm drives you to your own as you come. She gasps as she realizes, but you press her with your body against the wall, letting her feel you while your seed spills inside her.

"You're mine now." You whisper in a commanding tone. "Mine entirely."

She looks deep into your eyes, looks at the animal and the man; at the monster, the leader and the lover; the real Rick Grimes and all the faces that compose him. And nods.

Certainty comes to you at that moment. She loves you.

You help her stay standing as you pull her pants up. She kisses you deep as you both sit down next to the window again. You cradle her in your arms and she closes her eyes again.

She sleeps like a rock until morning.

 **-o-**

Dwight puts his boot over Negan's fallen body and takes Lucille with his hand, his burnt face twitching in a smile. Before he can make it to Rick, though, you've already jumped in front, your rifle pointed directly at his face.

"You stay away from him!" You shout, hysterical.

"Get that thing outta ma face, crazy bitch! I'm on yer side!" He turns towards his people with the bat in his hand. "Everyone put down yer weapons and calm down! This war's over!" Your eyes widen at the words. "It's ok now! Negan's defeated! An' if ya value yer lives ya'll follow me like ya followed him! I can show ya a better way! I swear!"

The men surrounding you start lowering their weapons and releasing their prisoners. The war's over.

And you made it.

You crouch next to Rick and hold him up, kissing his forehead.

"We made it, my love. We made it." His eyes close and he blacks out, and you hug him tightly against your chest until Morgan comes to your side to help you carry him.

 _You and me, we've made it till the end. We won't die._


	4. Old Flame, Girlfriend, Lovebirds

_Yeeeaaaah, I've made it till the end! I won't die!_

 _I feel so happy every time I can put the words FIN at the end of a Story! Makes me feel accomplished. And bit sad about not being able to write about These two anymore, but it's great that I'm finally finishing my stories._

 _So… this is the end. Hope you liked it._

* * *

 **Old Flame**

 _(Hold On - Tom Waits)_

Even unbelievably strong women like Maggie are bound to crumble at some point.

Now that the war is over and she no longer has to fight everything has come back to her again; and the little creature growing inside her is probably influencing her depression.

You've come to say goodbye; you know she's not coming with you. Her and Rick are constantly jumping at each other's throats nowadays because of Glenn's death and Negan's imprisoning. Plus, people from the Hilltop like her; and now that Gregory has proven to be a shitty leader they'll probably be looking for a new figure to follow that isn't as cowardly and gullible. Someone like her.

You're going to miss her so much, though…

"Why are we still alive, Sasha?" Her question is heart-wrenching. You sit next to her, your eyes fixed on the sunset in front of you. You put a hand on her belly; its swell is starting to show now.

"For this." Her smile is sad.

"I feel it. Him… her… whoever it turns out to be…" Her hand clutches her father's watch; last memory of her family and her husband. "I had to be there to see it. In a way I knew I would. All those times whenever I didn't see him, he always came back and I kept on waiting. So when it finally happened I knew I would be there." She cleans her tears with the back of her hand. "I just want him back…"

"I know."

She comes closer to you and lays her head on your shoulder, crying.

"I'm scared."

You stay silent, letting her spill her pain on your shoulders. You've never been good at consoling people with words, so it's a good thing no one asks for them nowadays. But there's something about Maggie having been there for you in your most fearful moments that makes you indebted to say something.

She once reminded you that hope existed; now it is your time to do the same for her.

"You never know where this life is going to take you." You start after she's calmed down. "We never saw ourselves like this… face all cut up… baby on the way… living behind thick walls with a gun on our side. You once told me we would make it and we did. That's the hard part, I guess, but there's always something else to fight for. The things we've lost, they've made us stronger. Not that it makes those things worth enduring, but… you've lost your Bob. Maybe you got a Rick waiting for you out there."

She looks straight into your eyes and you give her a smile.

 **-o-**

Sitting in the sand waiting for the ships to arrive is a nice thing: Something to remind you of the casual, monotone rhythm of the days before the outbreak. Michonne sits next to you, her eyes firmly set on the waves breaking against the shore.

"It was my dream from the moment I lost them. The sea. I thought there might be something here to bring me back to life. I'm alive now and it still calls to me."

You smile at that.

"So, she left Monte Rio, son."

"Just like a bullet leaves a gun." The breeze is playing with her heavy dreadlocks, her eyes melancholic and sad. This is goodbye too. You've all made it this far without ever splitting up; a family. And it hurts when it all comes to a conclusion and you find out that your goals are in different places and you cannot make it together. But in a world where you don't have to fight any more there are choices to make. Sometimes that's even more difficult. "I hope you can make him happy. I think he really… loves you."

Her words take you by surprise. Everyone seems to know there's something between you and Rick already. Wouldn't be that difficult to tell, given the fact that you sleep in the same house most days.

Michonne always seemed to ignore the situation and you always looked forward to avoid the subject. Perhaps she still feels something for Rick; and when it comes to competition between the two of you, you've always thought Rick loves her more than you. Even though he tries his best to convince you of the opposite.

"Do you love him?" You ask, fearing the answer.

She smiles and looks back at you, as if she knew something you don't.

"Not in that way; not anymore. And that's a good thing." You swallow. Why? "You got your ghosts, sister. I got mine. I just hope you can make him happy." She sounds honest. "What is it exactly? What you have with him…" You don't know it yourself. Perhaps, like Rick says, it is time already to put a name on this, whatever it is. "Seems serious enough." Your sister observes. "So, fucking do something about it and move in with him."

"I don't know if he wants me to."

"He does." There's a ship disembarking on the shore. Michonne gets up, brushing the sand off her pants. "That's my ride."

"Big ass ride." You comment. She smiles at you.

"Where are Rick and Carl? I'd like to say goodbye." You knock your head in their direction and she follows you, silent.

You remain at a convenient distance from her and _'your family'_ , giving them privacy. Rick throws glances in your direction every once in a while, and his smile at you assures you everything's ok.

 _You got nothing to fear, he loves you_. You tell yourself.

"Sister…" She hugs you one last time, as you both make your way to the ship. "Keep your shit together, ok?"

Morgan follows her a couple minutes later. You're happy they're back together.

"Make her happy." You tell him. He smiles at that; it's more of a threat towards him.

"Make him happy." He pats your back and boards the ship.

As you make your way back to Rick's side he puts his arm around your waist. Judith in his arms is jumping up and down, stretching her arms towards you and calling your name. You smile and take her in your arms.

"For a minute there I thought you would jump into the ship with them." Rick comments, his sight lost in the sea.

"I considered it." You mock and he throws you one of his dangerous glances. "I got my life here. No point in looking for another one." Judith squeals happily and both of you turn to her. "Ain't that right, miss?"

Rick pulls you closer and you lay your head on his shoulder, your eyes firmly shut.

"You're a natural." He comments in respect to how you're holding his daughter. You catch the hidden message and open your eyes, looking straight at him.

Oh, the bliss that is being in love.

 **Girlfriend**

 _(Stay - Rihanna)_

Maybe seeing Judith in your arms now that the war is over and everything is just filled with expectation stirred something inside him. Something he's kept secretly concealed for a long ass time. Or maybe it is you the one who's noticed in his eyes what you've forced yourself to ignore until now.

The facts remain that after coming home you could hardly keep your hands off each other. Engaged in such fierce love-making as you are right now, you've thrown everything to hell and just indulge in the pleasure of being with each other. Maybe the last bit of decency you have has managed to keep the two of you as quiet as possible so that the baby won't wake up and Carl won't feel so uncomfortable. However, even your ability for silence starts to slip away after the second round, as he rubs your core so fiercely you're sure it'll hurt tomorrow.

"That's it." He whispers against your ear. "That's when I get you at your loudest, love." He bites your neck hard and you muffle your scream against your arm. "Wanna take a break?" He asks tentative, making sure he isn't about to hurt you, and you want to laugh at his sweetness.

This man deserves love and you are here to give it to him. Every inch of your body and your heart is.

"No. I want to fuck you." you whisper against his lips and he laughs at it. He sits on the bed, watching your body hungrily like he's never done before.

"Fuck me hard, baby?"

"Like there's no tomorrow." And just like that your legs straddle him. You push him down, his back against the mattress, and every inch of his body touching yours. Your eyes lock with his, focused on his blissful expression as you guide him inside you again. It's glory. His arms hold you tight and his lips devour yours so hungrily you think he might actually rip them off. "One more…" You ask, tasting the blood on your lower lip. He attacks again and this time you manage to catch his lip, bruising it just as hard. His hips grind against yours, reminding you of how great he feels inside you.

"One more?" He asks in ragged breaths once you let go with a gasp.

You keep your eyes on him as you start riding him, working yourself harder than ever. The exertion is worth it just to see his eyes the moment he comes undone underneath you. Your orgasm overtakes simultaneously and you never stop looking at him. Its vibration lingers inside you after you come down, twitching your insides around his cock. Breathing hard, he rolls you down, whispering incoherent words against your lips as he kisses you sweetly. You look at him humorously as he starts ranting about never wanting to leave this bed and growing roots around you to prevent you from escaping it.

"Sex really makes you a madman, doesn't it?" You whisper against his lips. He quiets down, still resting his whole weight on top of you -cause you can take it and don't want him moving away any time sooner. - After long minutes of silence and you believing he's dozed off for good, he finally speaks.

"Something's changed." Silence.

"Yes." You whisper, a knot in your throat making your voice sound a little on edge.

"What?"

Everything.

What you once believed and what you once thought would happen; your priorities, your motivation, you… everything has changed and is now revolving around a new man; a new hope; a new world you didn't think would exist after what you lost. You know how scared you were of this future before; how it all seemed to point in the direction of loss, death and defeat. Now you look up to it with a smile. You know this is living and you don't need to be scared anymore. Rick is the good that came out of all this bad.

"Not easy to explain." He laughs softly against your shoulder. "But this was the inevitable from the moment you first kissed me. I was just buying my time till I got to this point."

"And you realized it just now?" You give him the look and he responds with one of his own. His hand is caressing your face and you know it is your time to ask the question and accept the terms that come with it.

"I know we're supposed to be used to this by now. But I'm not…" You take a deep breath while he looks at you curiously. "Can I sleep here tonight?"

A long silence follows your words and a pang of fear travels down your back; but his arm around you doesn't withdraw and it keeps you hopeful until he finally assimilates your meaning.

"You can sleep here every night." His voice is soft and loving and his lips start kissing you again. He pulls away with a smile that surely mirrors yours.

"One more." You ask and he obliges happily. It doesn't take long before you are ready for another round of lovemaking. You know you should sleep, for tomorrow you got sharpshooting lessons to give.

But fuck it.

 **Lovebirds**

 _(Colorful – The Verve Pipe)_

You groan as you wake up for the third time in a minute, still holding tightly onto her. It is almost impossible to get out of bed when a woman's warm body is lying next to you, calling you like a magnet to wrap yourself around her and forget the world outside.

She stirs in her sleep, turning her back to you, and your eyes wander down the line of her back to her behind.

 _Morning sex. Would be nice._

But you don't have time for that nor want to wake her. It's so unusual to have her sleep the entire night like this. You disentangle yourself from her and kiss her head softly. She moans, waking up, and you curse yourself for not being delicate enough.

"You sleep well?"

"Like a rock." She answers turning towards you, her arm closing around your body, preventing you from getting out of bed too soon. You snicker at that and kiss her good morning.

"Good." Pulling free from her unwilling arms, you get up and walk to the bathroom to brush your teeth. She follows you a few moments later in nothing but a tank top and panties. You look at her as she stretches her arms over her head, grabbing the doorframe and looking at you mischievously. "Gonna take a shower?"

She nods, biting her lip. You must love her morning horniness.

"Want to join me?" She walks towards you, taking her shirt off in the process, and presses her naked torso against your back. Well, maybe you can delay yourself just a little… no, you can't. Have a little self-control, Rick Grimes.

"I do. Believe me. But I can't. Gotta get ready." She looks at you through the mirror in front of you.

"I promise it'll be quick." She mumbles, pouting. You smile at her sweet face.

"I get in there with you, we won't make it out of this bedroom." She sighs against your shoulder.

"Suit yourself." It is your turn to pout when her warmth pulls away. "Where you gotta go?"

"Pay a visit to ole friend Negan." You answer with dread and her long silence tells you how much she hates what you just said. She worries too much about you sometimes; especially when it comes to you keeping an eye on that criminal.

"I could come with you. If you want me to."

"No, baby. You stay here. Carl's coming down with a cold, help him get better. Judith needs you too." She sees right through your excuses. You simply don't want her close to him.

"And you? Don't you need me?"

"Hmmmm…" You turn to her as she gets rid of her panties, standing naked as the day she was born. "Maybe tonight. When I'm all tired and wanting to kill something… And I'll claim you."

God, you wish you had more time to jump into that shower with her. She looks up at you and smiles as she notices the way your eyes roam through her body.

"I'll wait patiently." She whispers, before closing the glass door on your face and turning the faucet on. You bite your lip and tap your finger on the sink, weighing your choices as you watch the dark-skinned silhouette behind the glass.

"Fuck it." You mumble, before taking your shirt and boxers off and jumping into the water with her, snickering at her squeal of surprise.

Forty-five minutes later you hurry towards the kitchen, grabbing your gun; late, but in a really good mood. She comes out of Judith's room, carrying your sleepy daughter in her arms. How is it she's always faster than you?

"Rick?" She asks as you prepare to leave. "Does me washing a teenager's two-month underwear mean I'm part of the family now?" You snort at that. God, Carl. "Cause if that's what it takes I think I'm gonna start second-doubting myself."

"Will you?" You walk towards both your girls, kissing the grumpy toddler in her arms. "Come on; don't take after Sasha's mood." You joke and your girlfriend hits your arm hard. You kiss her, playful.

"You need to go."

"One more." She smiles and kisses you again. "One more…"

"Nope."

"One more!" She obliges, begrudgingly.

"Enough." You move away, but she takes your hand, pulling you back towards her and kisses you one last time. "I love you."

 **-o-**

Fucking Olivia left the door to that cell unlocked and you want to kill her for it. A mistake like this cannot go unpunished, not in this world of shit, not when it involves a man like him.

The horrors that could've happened still plague your mind like horrible nightmares that never happened. Your children and Sasha dead, Negan covered in their blood… your community burnt to the ground and the man's psychotic laughter mocking your inability to protect them all…

Maybe what disturbs you the most, however, is that nothing, absolutely nothing occurred. You found Negan still sitting inside the cell, facing the open door and smiling smugly as you entered.

 _"You can keep me locked up here as long as you fucking want. Forever if you want. I'm the toughest motherfucker you're ever going to meet, I can take it. Hell, I fucking love it. I'm having an awesome time. No need to boss people around, no fighting for my life against corpses… I should be thanking you. Wait! Thank you. From the bottom of my fucking heart: Thank you." *1_

Negan's words burn like hot iron. You hate the fact that you let someone like him get to you. And yet here you are; doubting yourself because of that son of a bitch.

 _"But Rick: Don't kid yourself into thinking I'm here as some symbol of your mercy. We both know that's not true. I'm here because after everything you did I'm the only thing you can use to convince yourself you're a good person. After everything I'd done, after everyone told you to execute me, you fucking let me live! Me! A man like me! Only the greatest person on earth, only Rick Grimes, the guy who will fix everything, would do that! He's the guy who's going to save the world because he's the most civilized of all of us! Remember that when you're screaming at that poor fat woman who left my cage unlocked... Remember that when you threaten to exile her, throw her to the wolves for making a fucking mistake. You fucking monster!" *2_

You wish you could laugh that statement off as another hopeless intent of manipulation from Negan, but there's no way you can. You'd be lying to yourself if you did. You've learned to keep the monster contained; locked it away like you did with Negan, but you still keep him there. You feed it; keep it in shape, waiting for that moment when you'll be forced to use it again. When these communities fall and the horror comes back and it is up to the law of nature to determine who lives and who doesn't.

You're not a good man.

"I heard what happened! Everything ok?!" You barely wait until she opens the door to barge into the house and take her in your arms, pulling her into a violent kiss. She gasps in pain as her lip opens again under your insistent biting. "Rick, not so hard!"

Her squeal brings you back to reality and you take her face in your hands, watching her in awe.

"I'm sorry." You whisper with self-hatred. Her eyes are firmly set on your face, wide and dark, recognizing all of your pent up anger and pain. As you let go of her she throws herself at you, kissing you all over your face.

"It's ok, love." She guides your hands under her shirt and you pull it over her head, ducking to kiss the bridge of her breasts. "Close the door." You obey and she takes you by the hand, guiding you towards the bedroom.

It's safe to go primal with a panther like her. She likes it and she's tough, and you are not afraid of breaking her. She knows you would never really hurt her. The way she entrusts herself to you completely gives you comfort again. You pin her wrists and press her chest against the mattress, thrusting into her from behind, and she shouts her ecstasy loudly, pleasing you.

She knows you need it.

An hour or so passes after you two are done; you never know time when you're in her arms. She cradles you in her arms like a little child, kissing the top of your head. Complete silence, but it's somehow the most welcoming thing you've heard since you exited the house. In her arms, the cruelty of this world doesn't exist.

"Am I a monster, Sasha?" You ask, passing your index finger through the scar on her cheek.

"Never say that."

"If I am… if Carl is…"

"Shhh." Monsters love too. Monsters kiss and embrace and talk about justice, pretending to be harmless. Maybe it's not a question of who the monster is, but of when does it come out to the surface.

It's turned dark before you even noticed and your girlfriend disentangles her arms from around you, getting up.

"Where you going?" You ask, and it sounds so needy you want to slap yourself.

"Night-shift. Take care of Judith?"

"You got it." She sits next to you, putting on her socks, and you trace a lousy hand down her back, tickling her all over her spine. She snickers and leans to kiss you. "I thought I might get some alone time with you tonight."

"We got the whole week to enjoy, you can surely spare one day." Your bad arm wraps around her neck, holding her in place. It's too dark to see yourself in her charcoal eyes. "You ok?" She asks. "Everything good with Negan?"

"Peachy." You retort, sarcastically. "Be honest with me, you think I'm wrong?"

She doesn't need you to specify. You two have had your conversations and fights about it more than once.

"No. Yes." She sighs "I don't know. Michonne seems to think you're doing the right thing."

"But what do you think?"

"I've always been a pessimist. You know it."

"Huh." She watches you intently for a while, taking your face in her hands to kiss you.

"You better work on that beard. Want to end up like the Messiah?" You smile against her lips and rub it all over her neck. She tries to jump away, but your arms prevent her from doing it. The way she shakes from the tickles against you makes every nerve in your skin activate. "I trust you." She whispers against your ear, stilling in your arms to let you hold her tight. Her feather-kisses on your neck are glory. "Do you trust yourself?"

It's a good question.

"As much as I can." You have no choice.

"Then it's settled. Don't let him make you doubt yourself."

She's right. You can't let that happen. Not anymore.

"I'll miss you tonight."

"I may come home early… Tired and wanting to kill something. And I'll claim you."

"It sounds too sweet when you say it."

 **-o-**

The question comes back every time.

 _Do you want to live in a world like this?_

You look at her and she gives you that timid smile that says it all. You don't know how long the two of you will last, but you know you have her here now. You don't know if the Colonies will be destroyed one day, but you live in them now. You don't know for how long you'll still be alive, but you are alive now.

And the answer is so obvious it makes you laugh at the fact that you didn't see it before:

 _Yes, I want to live._

 **FIN**

* * *

 _Negan's lines were taken straight out of the comic. They're one of the most interesting speeches I've read in Walking Dead, so I had to put them there word by word. Most speeches and lines from the comic I've adapted and varied a little, also so that they could fit my characters and storyline. But this one is a total rip-off, so I think a disclaimer is in order._

 _*1 and *2 (Negan to Rick Grimes, The Walking Dead (Robert Kirkman)) Please don't put a cero on this if I quote wrong! Oh, wait, you're not my professors…_


End file.
